


Titanium (With You On the Edge of Every Tomorrow)

by abeautifullie3



Series: Titanium Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural, Supernatural Semi-AU
Genre: A Bit of Schmoop To Sooth, A Few Instances of Gore, A/B/O, Alpha!Dean, Alpha-to-Omega!Sam, Alpha/Alpha Sex Mentioned, Angst, Anilingus/aka: Rimming/aka: Dean Eating the Fuck Outta Sammy's Ass, BDSM: A Bit of B…With Some D&S…No S&M, Brother Banter, Canon Divergence, Damned Fucking Witches!!!, Dean's Favorite Word Is "Fuck" (or any variation thereof), Death of Not-A-Fucking-Lead Character, Don't Do Anything With My Work Without My Permission!!!, Graphic Deaths of Minors (not Sam and Dean's), Graphic OC Deaths, Graphic Sex, Hunter’s Hogwarts!Bunker, I’mma Kill Casshole’s Feathery Ass Though, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Kid!Fic, Kinda-sorta Curtain!Fic, Kinda-sorta Fix-It!Fic, Like Four-Alarm-Fire ANGST!!!, Long Suffering – Fond – Bobby Banter, M/M, Mpreg, No I Don’t Knock Bobby Up! Balls!!!, Pregnant!Sex, Profanity, Questionable Biological Possibilities and Medical Procedures (come on! it's Mpreg!!!), Show level violence, Soulless!Sam, Spoilers through entire aired series…just to be safe, Surrogate Father To the Boys!Bobby, To Be Safe: Graphic Births, lactation!kink, powers!Sam, pregnancy!kink, semi-au, “Real” Men Cry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:34:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 34,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25113982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abeautifullie3/pseuds/abeautifullie3
Summary: All the sigils and wards. All the hoodoo and white magic. All the mystical safeguards they had in place, yet there was one thing none of it could protect them from… Humans.Against the odds, Dean and Sam built a life together aside from Hunting.  With the help of a curse-turned-gift, they’ve even made their own family.  Now, Sam 8 months pregnant with their daughter, it’s all being threatened when Dean and their 5-yr-old son, Jameson, are taken.It's perfectly executed.  As if the kidnapper knows personal details about Sam and Dean's lives.  Has access to the bunker.  Has been to their home.It's because she does and has.She's been training with them for over 2 years.  Moved up in the ranks to both helper and friend.She's been biding her time.Now it’s Dean’s turn to bide his time, care for his son best he can while being held prisoner, keep them alive until Sam can rescue them.  And if there is anything Dean knows for sure…Samwillsave them.Weeks passing, stress taking its toll on Sam’s heavily pregnant body, with what little Sam and his people have to go on, he knows it’s up to him to rescue his brother and son from a sadistic psychopath who may be right in their midst.
Relationships: Charlie Bradbury/Eileen Leahy, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: Titanium Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1818961
Comments: 9
Kudos: 294
Collections: Wincest Reverse Bang





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Semi-AU from season 6 finale. Some canon stuffs after that still happened. A helluva bunch didn’t…or played out differently. No time for significant “world building”, and not a primary focus, but this is A/B/O.
> 
> (Tags, they are your friends!)  
>  &  
>  (Timestamp imminent!!!)
> 
> LJ Post Here::: https://abeautifullie3.livejournal.com/117835.html
> 
> _**Please, Go and Show the Artist Some Love!!!** _
> 
> Tumblr Users Here: https://darklittleheart96.tumblr.com/post/622873097431826432/
> 
> LJ Users Here: https://wincest-reverse.livejournal.com/53563.html
> 
> _(No Tumblr or LJ? Feel free to leave it here, I’ll see she gets it!)_
> 
> _**DL Custom PDF w/Art** _
> 
> http://www.mediafire.com/file/jck2vdua1y4lg43/Titanium_-_Custom_PDF_with_Art.pdf/file 
> 
> **Disclaimer:** The story is mine. The boys, and all things canon, not mine. :::pouts:::  
>  The views held by these characters are not necessarily my own.
> 
> **I ask that my work not be remixed, reworked, translated, or reformatted in any manner without my permission. With exception to the summary, header information, and brief excerpts, my work may not be re-posted or distributed elsewhere in large part or in whole. Thank you.**
> 
> **Additional Notes:** Written as a pinch-hit for the 2020 Wincest Reverse Bang on LiveJournal. Thanks to the Mod for running this and letting us play!
> 
> Poppin' my A/B/O cherry here, folks. Soooooo not my cuppa, but when it's a Reverse Bang, and you adore your artist and they give you the ol' "puppy eyes" for A/B/O…well, what's a writer to do? Get excited af, plot out the whole thing…then hit a wall for a month, apparently that’s what. Le’ sigh.  
>  Given this was a pinch-hit, and both my lack of knowledge – and yes, unease – with the trope, as mentioned in the summary there simply wasn’t time to world build this, taking time to give it proper consideration and handling to do my own take on A/B/O. Whether it be for another challenge, or just our own collaboration, I kinda hope I get the opportunity to create that in-depth fic for my artist down the road. For now, I hope my light-handedness with it in this story is enough to satisfy her craving.
> 
> Immense gratitude (along with a {IOU!!!} fine bottle of whiskey) for cheerleading, and virtual hand holding, and teaching, and inspiring, and input giving, and listening to my drama!lama-ass for _hours_ on the phone, and a Quick & Dirty Beta to setinreality, without whom…well, a hell of a fucking lot, wouldn’t be possible. (And most definitely Dean claiming Sam!) Love her.  
>  Any and all remaining errors – including ones due to grammar “rules” I am compelled to rebel against in expressing my creative freedom – are not for her lack of trying. Lady’s got mad Beta skills!
> 
> And finally – and fondly – my artist, darklittleheart96, such a pleasure to work with again!!! Manip art can be such a tricky thing. Unless it’s by Pompei77, it’s usually got that quality that leaves a sharp eyed viewer tilting their head side-to-side, going, “Hmmm.” as they debate the merits and flaws. LOL!!! DLH though, she puts **real** effort into hers, strives to create something that’s worth that right-click/save, and I’m delighted and proud to write for! She’s also one of the _sweetest_ people I know!!!  
>  My thanks to her for her kindness, patience, thoughtful feedback, a willingness to _take_ feedback as well, and for yet another fantastic collaboration! May we get to do it yet again!!!
> 
> No blood, but a lot of pain (spinal stenosis, fml), a little sweat, and a few tears went into this. There was also a fair share of laughter too. And love.  
>  Is this fic everything I wanted it to be? No.  
>  Is it everything I wanted to give my artist? Nope.  
>  There are things about it I really like though, and I’m damned grateful my artist loves it…that right there alone making it time well spent for me writing it.  
>  I truly hope at least some of my readers will enjoy it as well. If it gives anyone – well, however long it takes you to read it – that much time of escape from the harshness of reality, then all the better it’s served its purpose – and I, the writer, mine.
> 
> (FWIW::: No, this isn’t late. Just slipped Mod’s mind she’d originally said we’d have until beginning of July to post. Whoopsie! Hehe! No real set date, artist and I played it by ear, working to get the finished goods out ASAP!)

[ ](http://imgbox.com/3lhb6DPI)

_**Titanium  
(With You on the Edge of Every Tomorrow)** _

[ ](http://imgbox.com/VhNrLuK5)

_**Chapter One  
~  
THEN  
9 years ago  
Carmel, Indiana ** _

[ ](http://imgbox.com/ssOEhSCD)

“What the hell do you mean you didn’t get her?” the older man roared, kicking his chair back from the table as he rose to get in the men’s faces.

“We, uh, stabbed her before she started to… Look, the kid was screaming, and we couldn’t just let her… It didn’t work. She just…fuck, she ripped the kid’s head clean off and then bolted. We couldn’t stop her.”

The tall figure that had been looming in the rear of the room stepped forward out of shadow, harsh burst of laughter curt, derisive, as cold and snide as his eyes. “I told you it wasn’t myth. You can only kill a Crocuta with the limb of a freshly cut white birch, dipped in consecrated hyena blood under a new moon, and _**only**_ when they’re feeding, yet you all wanted to risk it to save a kid who’s dead anyway?”

The older man sighed, rubbed at his forehead, tired. “He’s right. We should’ve listened. You two,” he looked at the failed Hunters, “see if you can’t track her again. We’ve got days at best before those back-up limbs dry up. Bitch is in her feeding cycle, who knows how many more kids she’ll kill before we can do another ritual. You find her next victim, dammit. And no fucking around this time. I don’t like it either, but it’s one kid or dozens, you let her feed and then get in there and take her out. And you,” he turned back to the younger, foreboding man, only to find him gone.

[ ](http://imgbox.com/MI39oJeb)

_**NOW  
Red Cloud, Nebraska** _

Hearing the unique knock, Dean turned off the faucet, drying his hands on the kitchen towel as he made his way through the downstairs to the front door. Greeting him when he opened it was his favorite perky, red-headed Beta. "You cut your hair!"

Charlie shrugged, stepping into the house and passing Dean with a quick peck to his cheek. "Meh, needed a change."

"And what does Eileen think?" Dean grinned, casually tossing the towel in his hands over his shoulder. He still couldn’t believe the two of them were together but was damn happy for ‘em. Of course, Charlie'd had heart eyes for the Alpha from the moment Eileen Leahy had warily turned up at ' _Hunter’s Hogwarts_ '. The solo Hunter in the area investigating a case, she'd heard rumors about their little set up, so wasn’t too surprised when she’d crossed paths with Jody and three trainees who were also working the same case as a training mission. Was curious enough to check it out when Jody’d made the invite. Charlie had shyly kept her distance while Dean and Sam had given Eileen the grand tour, though when the fellow Hunter had thanked them and said she’d be moving on, Charlie had rushed right over. Surprised all of them by signing as she spoke, greeting Eileen and then insisting maybe she could help out. Charlie’s fingers flying as fast as the ramble coming out of her mouth, Eileen’s grin had just kept getting bigger – Charlie telling her how Dylan and Monica were looking into a case a couple miles away and could use some help, no one else available and maybe Eileen could do them all a solid. Pure bullshit, and they'd all known it, but Eileen had simply smiled coyly and agreed. Took a week of her repeatedly insisting she was leaving before Eileen finally stopped and just never left. Wasn't a month before she'd moved in with Charlie, a cozy little apartment above a cafe in Red Cloud.

“She loves it,” Charlie replied smugly, removing her cross-body laptop bag and putting it on the couch. “Says as long as I leave enough so she has some length to grab onto–“

“Whoa, whoa, _whoa_!” Dean flailed his arms wildly. “Not anything I need to know about essentially my kid sister!”

“Dean, you fuck your brother,” Charlie deadpanned.

“Shut your mouth.”

Charlie laughed.

Dean really did think of her as a sister, Sam did too. They’d met her not long after Sam’s change in Status. Heavy case they were working with Bobby and Rufus, a few other Hunters those two had brought in for back-up. Had turned out to be one of Eve’s newest creations, some evil, high-powered business douchebag set on global domination. Just like so many of the folks who turned up at ‘ _Hunter’s Hogwarts_ ’, Charlie’d been a clueless Beta in the wrong place at the wrong time, ending up pulled into their Hunt. Self-proclaimed tech goddess that she was though, Charlie's skills had played a major part in bringing Dick Roman down. Once they’d acquired the proper weapon, taking out the asshat and his underlings had been pretty simple: chop off the head of the leader, and the minions all fell like dominoes.  
As for Charlie, she’d hightailed it away from them right after, not that they could blame her. ‘Course when fate brought him and Sam back around her way, well… From there she’d just become family. 

Coming down from upstairs, Sam shuffled into the living room, all pitiful puppy pout and sulking shoulders, socks and a pair of gym shoes in his hand. “I can’t get my shoes on,” he groused, leaning over the back of the couch and kissing Charlie on top of her head. “How’s my favorite tech-geek? I like the hair.”

“Thanks, and good. Think I’ve almost cracked that code from those old journals Kayla brought up from the sub-basements.”

“Awesome.” Sam waddled over to Dean and handed him his shoes.

Chuckling, Dean stood up, let Sam take his seat and then dropped down to his knees in front of him. It was only fair, considering the impressive third-trimester belly Sam couldn’t work his way around was Dean’s doing…and Dean was damned proud of it, knocking Sammy up a second time. Resisting the temptation to tickle the bare foot in his hand – knowing it’d only get him a kick in the face – he proceeded to put his brother’s socks and shoes on.

“’ _Awesome_ ’? That’s all you’ve got?” Charlie feigned a sulky pout.

“No, I’ve got acid reflux, swollen cankles, and hemorrhoids too, but didn’t figure you’d want those.”

“TMI, bro, way TMI.”

“Hah!” Dean barked. “Serves you right!” Spared a snarky comeback, Dean smiled as a ball of five-year-old energy came barreling into the room.

“Aunt Char! Aunt Char!” The little boy didn’t stop until he’d plowed into Charlie’s legs, climbing onto her lap and giving her a wet _smacking_ kiss. 

“Teddy bear!” Charlie greeted back, just as enthusiastically. 

Charlie there the night his and Sam’s son, Jameson Theodore, was born, she’d been a constant in Jamie’s life ever since. She was good with him, frequently looked after him while his daddy and pawpaw (yeah, Dean was _supposed_ to have been papa, but when Jamie’d kept getting it wrong…well, it had eventually stuck) had to go to the bunker or wherever, the occasional date night. Charlie loved the hell outta the kid. Would make a great mom to her own some day, her and Eileen ever decided to have any. For the time being though, Jamie got her all to himself. Well…at least until his baby sister arrived.

Staring intently at Charlie with big hazel eyes and flushed dimpled cheeks, Jamie was all serious business. “I need your help, Aunt Char. Daddy and Pawpaw haf’ta goes to work, and the dinoswars are storming the cast’el. We have to save thems!”

Dean and Sam both struggled not to laugh, Dean offering a clearly puzzled Charlie an explanation, "Yeahhh. _Uncle Crowley_ sent him a medieval castle Lego set – custom made. ‘Course, Sam and I had to take out a few pieces." Whatever strange feelings the King of Hell was sporting for him and his brother, they'd passed on in spades to their son. Of course, until they found some way to cure a demon – Heh! – he’d remain the elusive "Uncle Crowley" Jameson would never meet.

“I just feel sorry for whatever poor bastard at Lego he ‘ _convinced_ ’ to even _make_ a torture chamber.” Sam shook his head, holding out his arms for Dean to heave him up from the chair.

“Yeah, well, aside from that, gotta admit it’s pretty cool, and Jamie loves it. Paired it up with his ‘Jurassic’ toys.”

“Okay then. That makes sense now.”

“Come _onnn_ , Aunt Char!” Impatient, Jamie scrambled down off Charlie’s lap and tugged on her hand. “Pawpaw said you was Queen of Moon Doors, so you’d know whats to do.”

There was no containing it, just the _look_ on Charlie’s face sending Dean and his brother both into a fit of laughter.

“Laugh it up, bros. We’ll see who gets to dress up as my warriors again when you both get back.”

Laughter dying, Dean could feel the tips of his ears begin to heat, hand automatically going to the back of his neck and tugging – Sam had his eyes turned upwards to the ceiling, like he suddenly needed to contemplate the plaster and paint.

Charlie balked…and then cackled. “You _kept_ them!”

Dean simply rocked back on his heels, then forward onto his toes, lips exaggeratedly pursed as he blew out a long puff of air.

“Annnd…we’re leaving. Jamie, mind Aunt Char. Charlie, call if you need us.” Sam took a couple of steps, knocking his shoulder into Dean’s to get him in gear.

Making sure they had everything, and giving their son good-bye hugs that were never to be skipped, Dean and Sam headed out for the bunker…Charlie's laughter trailing them out the door.

[ ](http://imgbox.com/iF3Al5FE)

_**> >> Lebanon, Kansas <<<** _

“Alright, so catch me up here, where is everyone?” Sam sat down at the table, nodding to Molly who quickly pulled up a detailed chart on the big screen.

“Garth is with Level 3 on a string of Werewolf kills in Wisconsin. He checked in earlier. They’ve put down three of the turns and are locked in on Were-Zero. Figure tonight or tomorrow they’ll wrap it up. Jody and Donna have Level 2 on a cluster of Ghouls in Georgia.”

“Jody claim her yet?”

Molly snickered. “No, still tip-toeing around each other is the scuttlebutt, Sir–“ Molly lifted her hand before Sam could correct her. “I know, I know, ‘Sir’ was your father. Not-so-old habits…Sam.”  
Molly was former military. Her entire platoon wiped out by some sort of sand-dwelling tentacle creature. Of all things, she’d been relieving herself, came back to catch the tail end of the carnage, something resembling a giant squid retreating back beneath the sand, coated in blood and gore, bits of her friends and comrades caught along the jagged-toothed “limbs”. Major PTSD, and she wasn’t ready to see any action, might never be. Her training and smarts, along with a fierce conviction to help take down monsters, she was an incredible and welcome asset all the same. She was also married to Emilio, Sam’s midwife. 

“You’re fine, Molly. Go on.”

“Rufus and Eileen are checking out reports of a Jersey Devil, in, well…New Jersey.”

Sam barked out a laugh. “You’re kidding, right?”

Molly shook her head, grinning.

“Next you’re gonna tell me there’s a Chupacabra in California.”

“Um, Colorado actually. Cesar and Jesse are there with Level 1.”

Dean barked out a laugh from where he’d paused in his research to observe the briefing. “Can’t make this shit up, Sammy.”

Sam shook his head, stopping abruptly. “Wait, Cesar and Jesse are back? Again?”

“Yuuu _p_ ,” Dean drew out the word, _popped_ it at the end. “Last week. All I can say is hope they have an easier time deciding who tops.” Just like Dean and Sam– well, _used_ to be, they were both Alphas. Both excellent Hunters too, just couldn’t make up their minds for shit when it came to retiring from the life…as much as a Hunter ever could, that is.

“Dean!” Sam snapped, hissing his chastisement.

“What? Just sayin’.”

“They, uh…they switch,” Molly mumbled.

Sam balked at the timid reveal, Dean throwing his head back and cackling.

Molly shrugged. “Scuttlebutt.”

“You laugh now, Jerk, until it’s _our_ sex life up for speculation.” Sam huffed.

“They don’t need to gossip about us, you’re carrying around proof of our sex life…Bitch,” Dean tacked on the last with a smug smirk. Knew it would get him a– yup, there it was, patented little brother bitch face. A bonus crimson flush. Dean chuckled to himself. Sam started it after all.  
Blowing a kiss in reply to the glare shot at him as Sam stalked out of the room, Dean called out, “If you’re going to the kitchen, bring me some pie!” 

“Get your own fucking pie!”

Ah, yes, Dean’s brotherly work was done. Of course, as Sam’s lover, or boyfriend, or husband, or what-the-fuck-ever else they were to each other ( _everything_ ), he’d have to make it up to him. Yeah, some pregnant-belly worship, and fucking Sam stupid, should get him forgiveness. Not that either would be a hardship.  
As it typically liked to come outta nowhere and do, the surreal of his and Sam’s life together up and bitch slapped him, sending Dean into a jumble of memories… … … 

[ ](http://imgbox.com/dyMF26o7)

_**THEN  
8 years ago  
Prosperity, Indiana** _

Fucking witches! For a moment there, Don Stark didn’t seem like such a bad guy. Turning up at the motel and saving them from a most likely excruciating death at the hands of his temperamental and vengeful wife. That was until he paused at the last moment, turned back to Dean and Sam where he stood in the threshold of the motel door with a deceivingly casual, “Oh, and speaking of saving marriages…”

A burst of neon green sparks from Don’s fingertips, and Sam was crumpling to the floor, clutching his abdomen and gasping in pain.

“Sammy!” Dean was instantly kneeling next to him, hands running over Sam’s writhing body. Head whipping around, he screamed at Don, “What the hell did you do to my brother?!”

“He’ll be fine. Just a little parting gift, help you two work on your own quasi-marriage.” Don stood there, expectant, like he was waiting for Dean to… 

Dean’s nostrils flared, inhalations turning harsh and deep. He turned towards his brother as it hit him, realization…and the _scent_. Sam was Omega. Whirling on Don once again, Dean growled, “You son of a bitch.”

“Think the only bitch you need to be concerned with there, Dean, is your brother. He’s going into heat. Enjoy.” Don chuckled, smug, then winked at Dean before he turned with a, “Ciao, fellas!” and walked into the night.

[ ](http://imgbox.com/jeW40s3A)

_**> >> ~ S&D ~ <<<** _

Near 800 miles between them and Bobby, only two pit stops, and Dean’s foot heavy on the gas, they made the twelve-hour drive in nine.  
Sam wasn’t talking, and there was only so much freaked-the-fuck-out one-sided chatter Dean could carry on. Could only try seeking distraction from Sam’s new scent – breaking Dean out in a cold sweat, cock painfully hard and leaking a wet patch all the way through his jeans – with so many hours of classic rock. Inevitably his mind wandered…things he couldn’t control. Things he wanted to forget.

First time they’d full on needed his help since…well, and Dean had only just stopped himself short of calling out for Castiel back at the motel. A cold jolt, knowing that was a source of help lost to them – inconsistent and consequential as it had been at times. Wasn’t so much Dean questioned what he’d done, Cas had crossed too many lines. All the times the angel had fucked up in the name of doing what he thought was right. Fuck, the demeaning way he treated Sam. Dean, he’d made excuses. Chalked it up to the angel’s complete lack of human social skills, and let it slide. For it to come down to what it had though, _that_ was what Dean regretted. His faith in Cas shattered when they’d trapped him in the circle of flames and holy oil, all the bullshit lies and deceptions revealed – that _he_ was the one responsible for bringing Sam back from Hell…without his fucking soul! And then, to go and break Sammy’s wall, the thing keeping him from memories that’d rip him apart… There was no turning a blind eye to deliberately harming his brother. There were no excuses. An angel who’d “raised him from perdition” or not, _no one_ fucking hurt his brother like that and got away with it. No one.  
Dean still felt sick over the deal they’d made with Crowley. Least it wasn’t some sort of Yellow Eyed Demon – come calling for a mystery favor down the road – bullshit. And while it seemed the look of betrayal on Cas’s face should have haunted Dean, fact of it was all he could really see when he’d driven the Angel Blade into him was his brother lying crumpled and broken in some filthy alley because of what Cas had deliberately done. His beautiful baby brother with a will made of titanium, who only minutes earlier had turned up just in time to keep Castiel from killing Bobby…and given Dean the opening he’d thought he’d lost. As for double-crossing Raphael after he/she had put Sam’s wall back up, Dean might’ve felt a few twinges of guilt over that…if he/she hadn’t been such a bag of dicks, every one of them with a hard-on for ending the world.

Dean shook his head, resolutely didn’t try to reach out and touch his unnervingly stoic brother, and instead cranked up the music. Yeah, it’d take a bit of getting used to, not having the trench coated angel to call on for help, but they’d get by, him and Sam, just like they always had.

[ ](http://imgbox.com/jeW40s3A)

_**Singer Salvage Yard  
Sioux Falls, South Dakota** _

Soon as they reached the salvage yard, Bobby’d come outside to meet them. Sam barely out of the car, and all it took was one whiff for Bobby to mutter a cursed, “Balls!” – cap off and hand tugging rough along the back of his neck, head hung and slowly shaking. Still, he’d reached out as Sam passed – defeated and demoralized – and gripped one of his hunched shoulders, squeezed it as he’d given Sam a tight smile.

“You boys get some sleep. We’ll see about all of this in the morning.”

“Thanks, Bobby.” Dean nodded as he walked past, trailing his brother into the house and through the dimly lit kitchen. Confused when Sam headed for the basement rather than the stairs, Dean called out to him, “Sammy, wrong way, man.”

Sam halted, though he kept his back to Dean and Bobby. “I… I can’t be around you. Not…not right now. Not when I’m like this.”

Nine hours of silence and now this, Dean’d had it. “Dammit, Sam, enough already! You can’t–“ Dean stopped, Bobby’s hand coming from behind and gripping his shoulder.

“Let him go, Dean.”

“Bobby, come on! We can’t just let him go down there like… Like some dog being punished for pissing the carpet. Seriously!”

“I get it, son, but your brother…Sam’s goin’ through somethin’ neither of us got a lick of understanding ‘bout. Boy feels more comfortable alone for right now, not gonna hurt him none to be down there. Not like we’re forcin’ him or lockin’ him in, Sam’s free to come and go as he pleases.”

“Thanks, Bobby,” Sam whispered, barely loud enough to be heard, before continuing on to the basement.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean growled, pissed and frustrated down to his bones.

“Come on, got a bottle of whiskey with your name on it.” Bobby steered Dean towards the living room.

Duffel dropped with a defeated _thunk_ at the bottom of the stairs, Dean went. “Yeah, pretty sure only name on it’s Johnny or Jack or Jim, but whatever.”

“Wise-ass.”

It was like fighting his very nature not to go down to Sam, to demand he let Dean at least comfort him. The liquor Bobby plied him with helped. Letting him drunkenly ramble and bemoan the situation as he filled Bobby in on what had happened helped more.  
He didn’t remember falling asleep on the couch, or Bobby throwing a blanket over him. 

[ ](http://imgbox.com/jeW40s3A)

_**> >> ~ S&D ~ <<<** _

For three days, Dean and Bobby researched – Bobby making one call after another, both of them following every lead, determined to get Sam back to his rightful Alpha Status. That was until Don Stark finally returned Dean’s call and brought everything to a screeching halt.

None too happy with the voicemails Dean had left – threats to kill his wife if he didn’t change Sam back – Don was willing to overlook them in light of Dean’s acute distress. Still, it didn’t change anything that had already been done. There was no switching Sam back. And if they tried? Sam died. Retaliate against him, his wife? Sam died. It was all tied into “the gift”. Don told Dean that despite them being inherent enemies, he liked both him and Sam. Didn’t want to hurt either of them, but wouldn’t hesitate if it came down to it. He told Dean they should seek out the advantages, what the change might afford them.

And that was that. Sam was Omega.

For a week they took trays of food down to Sam, not that he hardly ate anything. Dean brought him his laptop, Bobby offering one stack of books on top of another. Few days into it a package had arrived, Bobby red as a beet clear to his ears, shoving it at Dean, telling him not to ask and just take it to Sam.

Eight days, and Sam finally came upstairs, the only overwhelming scent hitting Dean and Bobby the rank stench of b.o. and sour of sweat from not showering in over a week.

“Good to see ya, son. Smell ya? Now that’s another thing altogether. You know where the shower is.”

Sam chuckled lightly at the good-natured ribbing and quickly headed up the stairs.

“All of the soap, Sammy,” Dean called out after him. “ _ **All**_ of it!”

[ ](http://imgbox.com/jeW40s3A)

_**> >> One year later <<<** _

When it finally happened, Sam hadn't let Dean touch him for a year. Dean had thought it fucking ironic. Sam'd taken Dean’s cock since he was seventeen, the fact they were both Alphas more of a stigma than them being brothers if anyone ever knew, but now that he was Omega… Yeah, ironic. Stubborn little bitch that he’d _always_ been – heh – suffered those first few heats alone. Every three months like clockwork, they'd hightailed it back to Bobby's where Sam locked himself away in the panic room, like it was some sort of punishment for what his changed body was going through. 

It was the second day, Sam having banished himself as usual, when Dean brought down his lunch. He barely caught the whisper of his name, and the following broken, “Please!” was all it took to have Dean throwing open the door and stalking into the dank and barren chamber to wrap his arms around his brother.

"Dean, don't…"

Dean drew back, looked into Sam’s eyes, searching, and nodded firmly. "Yeah. Yeah, Sammy."  
Starting from all those years back, sparring the first time it had turned into something else between them – the isolation, no roots, living in one another’s pockets, a slew of teenage hormones, and something deeper they never felt a need to define, what had been brewing under the surface for years finally not so much boiling over as exploding like a volcano – they'd always fucked. Hard, all rough and tumble. But there were also those times, chick flick moments be dammed, where they made love. This wasn't one of those times. Sam was still Sam. His body may have become Omega, but he was still Alpha at his core. And Dean needed to show his brother he understood. 

Grabbing Sam by his shirt and yanking him up from the cot he was sitting on, Dean pulled his brother in for a bruising kiss. 

Sam promptly opening to him with a needy growl, it was clacking teeth and warring tongues, pain and promise all twisted together like so much of their lives. He clutched at Dean frantically, fingers wildly grasping his wrists, biceps, digging up along his scalp.

“Gonna give you what you need, Sammy,” Dean mumbled against Sam’s lips, biting at the lower one until he caught the faint taste of copper.  
Drawing back, he scoped out the room. They’d fucked in worse places. Moving Sam aside, Dean took hold of the grungy old mattress and tugged it onto the even grungier concrete floor. Taking the blanket Sam had been using, he doubled it over, then again, and tossed it over the old, creaky metal coils of the cot.

Sam was already on board, swiftly unbuckling his belt and undoing his jeans, letting them pool around knees he dropped to without hesitation beside the cot, bending over it with his chest cushioned by the blanket Dean had just put down.

“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean hissed. The sporadic hits he’d gotten over the last year, it wasn’t like the scent of Sam’s heat rolling off of him hadn’t been driving Dean crazy. Wasn’t like he hadn’t licked his lips like Pavlov’s dog every time he caught the barest whiff of his brother’s new Omega slick – so damn sweet and heady it made his cock hard at just the _thought_ of getting a taste. But being nailed with it – musk, and fresh grass after a spring rain, and juicy, ripe berries – full blast, _seeing_ it glistening between Sam’s ass cheeks, along his thighs… Jeans only half undone, Dean dropped down behind his brother, spread him open with both hands and inhaled deep. Already high on the scent alone, forced himself to go slow. Had to savor that very first taste, tip of his tongue flicking out along Sam’s rim… Dean closed his eyes and moaned. Fucking ambrosia. No more waiting, he dove in.

“Ahh _dammit_ , Dean! F _uuuck_!” Sam cried out, back arching and ass presenting all the more for Dean to have his way with it. Minutes passing of Sam whimpering and writhing, hips circling and grinding into the face buried against his ass, tongue deep inside his core, Sam finally begged, “Dean, _please_. Oh fuck, Dean, you gotta…”

“Yeah, Sammy, yeah.” One last – one more, another, okay yeah, _fuck_ – taste Dean was already officially addicted to, and shoving his jeans down he took hold of his length. No pre-tugs, no warning, Dean placed the tip to Sam’s well prepped hole (not that Omegas in heat so much even needed it, their bodies naturally ready, it was more of a courtesy) and thrust forward.

Sam screamed.

Hands gripping his brother’s hips, Dean took him hard and rough.  
Neither of them was going to last, fucking year it had been since, and soon enough Sam was switching between growls and sobs, sweet little, “Ah-ah-ah.” exhales that had Dean pounding into his brother’s body all the harder.  
Bending forward and draping his chest over Sam’s back, Dean nudged his nose along the hinge of Sam’s jaw and behind his ear, scenting him in a place where the intoxicating new aroma was the strongest, breathing it in, deeper with each inhale, flicking out his tongue to taste. “Fuck, Sammy, wanna…” 

“I know, Dean. _Dammit_ , I… I know.”

Lifting off of Sam’s body and pulling him up with him, Dean took hold of Sam’s chin and turned his head until they were staring into each other’s eyes. “Are you… Do _you_ want to? You’d let me…”

“If we can’t say it, Dean, we probably shouldn’t do it.”

Dean flinched slightly, head jerking back and brows creasing, before snorting with a smirk. “Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

“I’m serious though, Sam, you gotta be sure about this.”

“Are you?”

“Do I want to fucking claim you? Finally let you, everyone, know you’re mine and I’m yours, and nothing, not even Heaven or Hell, can ever change that? What do you think…baby boy?” Dean hadn’t called him that since before Sam’d gone away to college, and Sam damn well knew it.

Grabbing Dean by the back of his head, Sam yanked him in for a fierce kiss. It was _yes_ , and _I love you_ , and _I wish we could’ve done it way back when – even as two Alphas_. “Do it, Dean, fucking do it!”

They didn’t need dinner and wine or “mood music” for this. Didn’t need a fucking rose petal strewn bed in some swanky room glowing with candles. All they needed was each other, a shared desire to make this commitment. And if it happened to be on some grungy mattress on the floor of Bobby’s panic room, didn’t that just fucking fit their lives.

[ ](http://imgbox.com/SgiriKsq)

Still back-to-chest, on their knees, Dean’s cock nestled inside of him, Sam tipped his head forward and to the side, presenting himself to his brother.

“Fuckin’ hell, Sammy.” Dean stared at the bare skin on offer to him, tawny-gold and slick with sweat. Nosed at the warm flesh, across the top of Sam’s shoulder and up into the tickling chestnut waves covering the nape of his neck, scenting him, and licking the same path back for a taste. A little more center than to the side, at the bottom of the nape of Sam’s neck, the scent and taste were the strongest. Right arm wrapping around the front of Sam’s waist, Dean’s left hand slid up beneath his hair along his scalp, fingers taking a firm grip. Holding his brother tight, Dean licked over the spot once, twice… “Sammy.”

“Dean!” Sam cried out, body bucking hard as his brother’s teeth broke though his skin, biting deeper until he was satisfied with his claiming hold.

Sam held fast by his hand and arm – between his jaws – and his lips sealed tight against his brother’s flesh, Dean sucked.

Strangled scream caught in Sam’s throat, he convulsed against Dean’s body, dick shooting streams of spunk onto the underside of the arm wrapped round him as he all but went limp.

Dean hummed his satisfaction at Sam’s release, his brother’s acceptance of the claim, and in turn succumbed himself. It was kinda like a super-charged orgasm from the point of climax, but in reverse. An explosion – body thrumming with the rush of endorphins, tiny rapid-fire bursts of light in his vision like the sharp colorless fireworks on the fourth of July – and then a steady easing down. Dean could smell his brother, obviously, but the scent was headier, richer, deeper, like it was embedded under his own skin. Coming down, he could also feel Sam trembling, realized he still had his teeth sunk into his brother’s skin, copper flooding his mouth. Jaw relaxing, he eased his teeth from Sam’s body, drawing back to stare at the angry looking bite he’d left. Dean lapped at the trickle of blood making its way down Sam’s back, laved his tongue against the open claiming wound. “Mine.”

Reaching back and around, Sam’s fingers dug into the meat of Dean’s ass, drawing him in closer, his hips rolling, circling, ass rhythmically clenching the cock still inside him. “Yours.”

Withdrawing from Sam’s ass with a grunt from both of them, he swiftly manhandled him down onto his back, Dean between his spread thighs and cock sliding back in like it knew where home was. He was close, needed to be face-to-face with Sam when he knotted him this time – his just claimed brother.

“Dean, wait!”

“What? What’s wrong? Did I hurt–“

“No, no, it’s just… You can’t knot me.”

“Huh?” Dean shook his head, seriously fucking confused, after what they’d just done… “What the hell, Sam? I can claim you, but now I can’t _knot_ you?”

“Think about it, Dean. I mean… If I’m…you know, then I can probably…uh…”

Dean stared down at Sam and blinked, drew a blank. Blinked again, nope, still noth– Oh! Oh shit! Wide eyes going straight to Sam’s middle, and holy fuck! The thought was like a punch to his own gut, and before he could stop himself he all out growled – Sam’s entire body quaking beneath him in response.

Despite his own body’s visceral reaction, Sam balked at how Dean oh-so-obviously felt about the new and foreign possibility. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me?”

Hitching up Sam’s bent legs higher, Dean settled his weight down onto Sam, hips rotating as he burrowed his cock deep as he could get inside his brother. “Don’t know, Sammy. Nothing I ever thought to consider wanting. Get it’s not somethin’ I _should_ consider, even now it might be possible. Crazy-ass world, our lives? Shit, bringing kids into this? _Shouldn’t_ be something I want, but… Fuck, Sammy, the thought of puttin’ my kid inside of you? You all full-up with a little… _us_?” Dean dropped his head, letting his forehead rest against Sam’s.

“That’s…” Sam stared at Dean, contemplative, turned his gaze away and gnawed at his lower lip. Suddenly turning back, he punched Dean in the arm.

“Ow! What the hell, Sam?”

“Claim me, knot me, knock me up. That it, Dean?”

Eyes rolling up towards his scrunched brow, lips pursed, Dean considered that, and of-fucking-course replied with the first thing that came to his Alpha brain, “That’s the general idea, yeah.”

Sam socked him again. “Asshole!”

“Dammit, owww, you little shit!”

“I’m not just your little Omega bitch now, Dean!”

“Always been my ‘bitch’, Sammy. Alpha or Omega. And pretty sure that mark I just put on you _says_ you’re mine – and don’t fucking hit me again! – ‘cause I’m yours too. Anyone who scents us will know it, but you need to mark me too? Need another matching tat, rings? So be it.”

“Dean.” Sam reached out, ignoring how Dean reflexively recoiled, and soothed his thumb over the red mark he’d left.

“We don’t have to have kids, not now, not ever. I’ll go in, get snipped, that’s what you need. Know all this has been a seriously screwed up change forced on you, so not gonna apologize for wanting it, but understand and respect if you don’t.”

Sam nodded, brushed his fingers through the short spikes of Dean’s hair. “I don’t know, Dean. Was a point I thought for sure I’d have kids. Then, things changed. Didn’t so much stop wanting them, as stopped letting myself. Wasn’t an option. Mostly because us, two Alphas, but also like you said, our lives, this fucking world? I’m just not… I’m not saying no, Dean. Now that we _could_? Now that I know you’d want it? But I need time to think.”

Dean ducked down, lips ghosting over Sam’s. “Fair enough. Time being, eight days of marathon, knotless fucking it is.” Dean knew, well as he knew Sam did, sure claiming took care of the scent, but only knotting would shorten Sam’s heats, give him any significant, longer lasting relief. Without Dean’s knot, it’d mean near round-the-clock fucking just to take the edge off – but it was also what would keep Dean’s swimming soldiers at ease. And if that was what his brother needed for now, Dean was up for the task. Whatever it took to take care of his Sammy. “So you’re clear though, we _will_ be taking the next six days of our little fuck-fest upstairs. No more of this punishing yourself down here bullshit. Get me?”

“Ordering next-day delivery ear plugs for Bobby, I got ya.”

Dean laughed. “Bit busy right now, but yeah, we’ll get right on that.”

"Huh. Don't seem all that busy to me.” Sam smirked, quirked eyebrow a challenge.

Caught off guard by his brother’s sudden levity ( _Not busy_ …taunting little shit!) Dean momentarily balked. Had Sam surprised him, yeah, but Dean wasn't really pissed. In fact, if his baby bro was up for some snarky goading, then apparently big bro was doing something right. Dean let his expression slide into a lewd and feral sneer, put a hefty dose of heat behind it, voice dropped a few octaves and thick like molasses when he spoke. "Really, Sammy? That so? Maybe I should do somethin' 'bout that then."

"Yeah, Dean, maybe you should get right–"

Dean exploded into motion, lightening quick agility getting him to his own knees while his hands gripped under Sam's, shoving them up and back until they were practically at his brother's ears.

Sam gasped. "–on that."

Cocking an eyebrow at his brother, Dean thrust his cock inside Sam's ass, buried to the hilt, holding steady as he watched him struggle to catch his breath. One good inhale, and Dean began pile driving into Sam's body.

"F _uuu_ ckkk!"

“This what you wanted? What you _needed_ , baby boy? Yeah, damn right it is, gonna fuck you into next _week_ , Sammy!” Dean snorted. “Kinda literally.”

“Yes. Yes. _Yessss_! All of it, anything, Dean, _yehehehehesss!_ ” Clutching at Dean’s forearms, Sam rambled on, voice shaky and breathy, “Just don’t stop. So damn good, Dean, please don’t ever stop!”

“I got ya, Sammy. Big brother gonna take care of you.”

[ ](http://imgbox.com/jeW40s3A)

_**> >> S&D <<<** _

They practically hadn’t stopped. More time than not, even when they’d eaten and slept, it had been with Dean’s cock in Sam’s ass. Bobby’d gotten that jumbo box of ear plugs and taken it all in stride – it never even having occurred to Dean that he wouldn’t. Had brought them up food, banged on the door and hollered in his gruff voice to, “Open a damned window!” Dean and Sam hearing the indulgent chuckle as he’d left them to it.  
Dean never asked, and Sam never said, just what it was that finally brought him around. Though, Dean rather suspected it was all those private, fatherly talks Bobby’d had with him, finally gone and sunk in. Didn’t figure Hallmark had a “thanks for convincing my Alpha-turned-Omega brother into letting me fuck him again” card for that. Stayed on an extra few days after Sam’s heat, helping Bobby around the salvage yard in thanks instead.

Things changed between him and his brother after that. Subtle, but important. Not that they could if they’d wanted to, what with Dean claiming Sam and all, but afterwards, they stopped hiding _that_ part of their relationship – from the outside world…and themselves.  
Sure they fucked. From that very first time all those years ago, desperate, needy, frenzied, often as aggressive as their fighting, Sam eagerly took Dean’s cock. Frequently. And yeah, on occasion, they could even spend hours worshipfully making one another come undone – tender touches, and hushed words they couldn’t say out from the cover of darkness and secrecy. What they had absolutely _never_ done was openly acknowledge it or talk about it.  
While incest was frowned upon, Alpha-on-Alpha mating was fully despised. Even in their “outside the parameters of _normalcy_ ” life, John had made perfectly clear his intolerance and revulsion, “It’s unnatural. Disrespectful of the Status, and downright sick.” for such sexual “deviations”.  
As much as Sam rebelled against their father, as much as all of them worked and lived outside of so many acceptable – and legal – social constructs, their was a deeply ingrained self-loathing in what he and Sam did together in secret. And as right and natural as it felt, letting it out from where they painstakingly kept it locked away came with dire consequences neither were willing to risk or face.  
When Sam had gone off to college, Dean had known it was because he wanted – needed – more than a life of Hunting. When he hadn’t asked him to go with, Dean had known Sam was also trying to get away from him.  
No sense in poking at those old wounds, the point was, Sam’s change in Status blew open a door for them. Whether or not they should’ve been able to bust it down themselves, _together_ – guilt and shame and consequences be damned – they hadn’t. Likely never would’ve. And while sure as shit neither of them were sending Don a fucking fruit basket, just maybe they had something to be grateful to him for.

[ ](http://imgbox.com/jeW40s3A)

_**> >> Two years later <<<** _

It took two years for Sam to get pregnant. All snowballed from there.

They’d stayed at Bobby’s for a week when they’d gone to tell him Sam was knocked up. Of course they’d always known if it happened they’d be faced with making drastic changes, but from their first bit of chatter over dinner they’d realized they were in way the fuck over their heads… … … 

“You know, I’d offer you boys up your old room, turn a spare one into a nursery, but I reckon this place – run down old house and salvage yard – ain’t much kid friendly.”

“Thanks for the thought, Bobby, really, but just figured–“

“Stop you right there, Sam, if you knuckleheads are ‘bout to tell me you’re fixin’ on raising that young’un in the bunker.”

Dean reared up, glowered. “Why the hell not?!”

“Well, Dean,” Bobby started out voice level, slowly rising as he continued on, “near as I can tell, I’m pretty damn sure your brother ain’t givin’ birth to a litter of _**mole rats**_!”

While Sam looked down suspiciously at his middle – only the barest bump noticeable when Dean’s hand rubbed over the more than ever cherished space – Dean slouched down where he sat, like the petulant, duly chastised moron he was. “I love the bunker, Bobby. ‘sides Baby and here, next closest thing Sam and I’ve ever had to a home.”

“Ain’t sayin’ get rid of it, just you two starting a family of your own, ain’t it maybe time to actually get y’rselves a real home?”

“Then what the hell do we use the bunker for? Mean, know we’re not gonna keep Hunting now, but…”

“Which brings us around to what we’ve been ignoring since we decided to try for kids,” Sam interjected. “Obviously we’re not going to raise a family on the road, and also can’t risk actively Hunting. But truth of it is, we all know there’s no getting out of the life. Not completely. How do we balance that? _Can we_ even? And how the hell do we keep our kids safe? We kept putting off figuring this shit out until if or when, well here we are.” Rather than look to his brother, Sam aimed his puppy dog eyes directly at Bobby.

“Do I _look_ like your damned life coach?”

Dean pursed his lips, head cocked as he eyed Bobby, and shrugged.

“Balls! You two idjits…”

“Come on, Bobby, you love us,” Dean cajoled.

“Which is why we come to you,” Sam added.

“And you two boys best be countin’ y’rselves damn lucky for it too!”

Round and Round they went, nearly an hour of this point and that – Sam diligently taking notes in the new journal he’d purchased when the pregnancy test stick had turned green. From familiar talk of supernatural wardings and protections, to the more “normal” discussion of baby and kid proofing and precautions. They contemplated just how far they could get out of the life, while still being prepared and vigilant for it to up and come calling on them like a vacuum cleaner salesman from Hell.  
Eventually settling on how they’d do something along the lines of what Bobby did – research, and phone banks of lines going to fake official offices, and making new identities, dispatching and coordinating efforts between fellow Hunters – Dean excused himself to hit the head.  
Back in the kitchen, Dean grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge for him and Bobby, some frou-frou bottle of juice for Sam. Handing off the beverages, he stood behind his brother’s chair, using his free hand to kneed his fingers along Sam’s neck.

Like any proud and supportive father, Bobby smiled fondly, sneaking furtive glances at his two boys while he flipped through some contact lists.

“I was kind of thinking,” Sam started.

“Didn’t hurt yourself there, did ya?” Dean ribbed. He and Sam may be mated, but he was still, and always would be, his big brother first. Teasing and the giving of shit was Dean’s birthright.

Sam simply huffed in response before continuing on, “Maybe, I don’t know, we could use the bunker to start a training facility?” Sam shrugged.

Dean pushed back from Sam. “Oh great, you want to turn our legacy into ‘ _Hunter’s Hogwarts_ ’.” Pulling out the chair beside his brother and spinning it around backwards, Dean straddled it and plopped down, taking a long pull from his beer.

Sam laughed. “Why not?”

“Gotta admit,” Bobby offered, “not a half-bad idea. All that space, resources. Can think of a dozen or so Hunters out there don’t know a lick ‘bout what they’re doin’. Place where they can learn, train?”

“That’s exactly it, Bobby,” Sam agreed. “I started thinking about all of our friends. Garth, Jody and Donna, Charlie. And so many of the other Hunters we’ve met. Most of them pulled into the life, usually after losing a loved one to it, and they’re out there winging it. Think about it. How much safer they’d be, the kind of skilled Hunters they’d make, if they had some solid training. The kind Dad gave us.” Sam reached out, placing his hand on Dean’s thigh. “That, along with everything Bobby here knows, think of what we could offer, Dean. We’d still be saving people, even if we weren’t Hunting things. It could still be the family business.”

It was low, Sam using Dad, the family motto. Or maybe it was really damn smart. Just like Sam’s idea. Dean couldn’t help but to be impressed, and proud, of his baby bro’s ginormous brain. Leaning over, he planted a kiss to Sam’s temple, grinning as he watched him blush.

Another couple of hours, beer – and juice – bottles piling up, they had the beginning framework of a solid plan.

Dean stretched, yawned, leaned into Sam’s fingers suddenly scritching at the sweet spot at the nape of his neck. “Well great, now that we know what we’re gonna do with the bunker…where the hell exactly are we supposed to live?”

Sam opened his mouth to reply, and promptly shut it, looking to Bobby imploringly.

Bobby rolled his eyes heavenward, exasperated, and grumbled, “Should figure myself lucky you two can wipe your own asses. I’ll make some calls, take care of it. Tomorrow! Got myself a perfectly good bed upstairs, and right now I intend to make my way up there and use it. Suggest you two boys do the same with y’ur own.”

“Will do. Night, Bobby,” Dean replied.

“Bobby,” Sam started, “just…thank you.”

Already up and passing behind them, Bobby stopped and reached out, squeezed Sam’s shoulder. “G’night, son.”

[ ](http://imgbox.com/jeW40s3A)

_**> >> ~ S&D ~ <<<** _

Bobby saving their hides once again, three weeks later they were moving into a sturdy old farmhouse on eleven acres that Bobby had “acquired” for them, not but a fifteen minute drive north of the bunker.  
Couple more weeks of settling in, Rufus made the trek to the bunker, the four men spending a few weeks hashing things out before bringing anyone else in on the project and truly getting it going.  
What with the way the Men of Letters had felt about Hunters… Again, the irony. The legacy that had been left to Dean and Sam from previous generations, becoming a legacy they in turn would create for present and future generations of Hunters alike. 

[ ](http://imgbox.com/iF3Al5FE)

_**NOW  
Lebanon, Kansas** _

Once Sam's belly popped, it was full on hoodie time. Massive suckers they'd found at KingSize..com that left even Sam's tall, heavily pregnant frame swimming in the material. Still, just like with their son, the eighth month swell of their daughter was beginning to strain against the fabric.  
Again, it was an insecurity thing. Sam still not entirely comfortable with the functions of his Omega body. Dean didn’t figure he’d ever be. Considered himself lucky Sam loved being able to give them kids, if not so much the how.  
Of course, bump hidden, any Alpha or Omega could still scent it on him – claimed, pregnant, Omega – but to your average Beta he just seemed like an Alpha gone chunkers. Especially with the baby weight. Dean though, he knew it was all muscle underneath. Got to run his hands over the deceiving layer of cushion to feel the flex of sculpted firmness. Truth of it was though, the weight Sam began to gain in his second trimester was just another log on Dean’s pregnancy kink fire. _Not_ that Dean didn't love the willowy version of his brother's body – those first couple years after the Omega change, the ripped physique he’d attained giving way to steely, streamlined muscle on a slender frame – but there was something to be appreciated in the new softness. Huh-hum, or the fullness, girth, something manly rather. ‘cause much as Dean teased the hell outta him, his brother wasn't some delicate pregnant flower. And he sure as shit didn't glow…  
Dean snuck a glance at Sam where he was busy going over the new training schedule. Okay, so he totally glowed. And alrightfinedammit, he _did_ look softer. Pregnancy had given his always stupidly gorgeous brother an almost ethereal beauty. Yet, all you had to do was look just that split-second longer to see the additional strength it had given him as well. Something primal, innate, coming with the knowledge that he was carrying precious cargo. _Their_ baby in there, Dean thought, eyes drawn to and focused on Sam’s middle. All warm and snug and safe. Yet another child _Dean_ had put inside his brother…and _**fuck**_! Shifting in his seat as his cock swelled, he was immediately caught out.

Nostrils flaring, Sam whipped his head around to meet Dean’s heavy – yet guilty – gaze, promptly giving him yet another honed and perfected bitchface. He didn’t even need to voice it, the accusing and unspoken, “ _Dean! Seriously!?_ ” loud and clear.

Tips of his ears on fire amidst the room full of Hunters – full-fledged and in-training both – Dean tugged at the back of his heated and sweaty neck, pursed his lips and exaggeratedly blew out a long breath.

Shaking his head, somewhere between exasperated and enamored, Sam pushed back from the table – dimples peaking out even as he rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna take a break, stretch my legs.” Leveling Dean with a pointed glance as he walked past, Sam made his way back towards the kitchen.

Unable to wait barely a minute…Dean followed.

[ ](http://imgbox.com/jeW40s3A)

_**> >> ~ S&D ~ <<<** _

It had been when they’d first been setting up the bunker as the training facility that Charlie had discovered it. Yet another hidden door…leading to one secret sub-basement after another. Seven in total, while they had a general idea of each room and what it contained, they still hadn’t managed to thoroughly go through and catalog everything. The lowest level was entirely empty prison cells, the one above essentially a hospital and medical ward, complete with a surgical room. The next three had obviously been set up as the living quarters of a nuclear fallout shelter, each floor having a kitchen, a community room, two community bathrooms, and dozens of twelve-by-twelve bedrooms. The top two levels were made up of storage rooms with countless boxes of paperwork, offices, projector rooms, and one library after another – walls lined with bookcases filled with an unfathomable number of books. Sam had to confess he’d nearly wet himself – and Bobby hadn’t been much better. Dean had simply rolled his eyes and left them to it.  
Down to the first sub-basement was where Sam was leading Dean. Hidden behind a wall of built-in bookcases, Sam and Dean had found the second secret dungeon, and this one, Dean had insisted, they were keeping a secret – Bobby and Charlie the only two they’d told, purely as a safety precaution.

Dean locking the door of the small, private library behind them, Sam crossed the room and pulled on the retro wall sconce doubling as a secret lever, the bookcase to the right slowly swinging open to reveal their own personal sex dungeon. It hadn’t seen much action since the training facility started operating, too many people coming and going, many even living in the bunker. Him and Dean still tried to sneak down once in awhile to fully indulge their kinkier sides, whenever more Hunters than not were out on training missions or full-fledged Hunts. Sam suspected some of them knew, likely more of the bunker “scuttlebutt”.  
Stepping into the room, Dean again making sure the door was securely locked behind them, Sam still found himself in awe of the contraption Dean had come up with back when he was pregnant with Jameson. Hard pressed to accurately describe it, his brother’d obviously started with a sex swing, Dean’s bashful, “I tweaked it.” when he’d first shown it to Sam putting it way the fuck mildly.  
Sam felt guilty for the way he’d almost always been dismissive of Dean’s ingenuity in their younger years. Had attempted to make up for it, praising Dean, even encouraging him, but his brother still remained shy, doubtful, when he shared something new he’d come up with.  
The suspension contraption however… Sam hadn’t been sure how the hell it even worked, and still he’d yanked Dean in for a searing kiss. And _after_ they’d used it… Yeah. Sam had ruined three casseroles, and generally failed or burned five pies, before he’d managed to make the perfect “Thank you, I love you, you fucking rock!” dinner for his brother that following evening.

Sam couldn’t deny he was anxious to put it to use again, no more than he could refute his current appreciation for Dean’s libido lacking concern for appropriate time and place. Sam wanted, _needed_ , to get fucked.  
No preamble, Dean stripped Sam down and secured him in amidst the jumble of straps and harnesses only he could puzzle out, and just like every time before, suspended there, Sam felt as if he was floating. Aside from the light pressure of the restraints – attached leather cuffs lined with thick padding of the softest sheep’s wool around his wrists and ankles, an odd comfort when at Dean’s doing and they were both in the mood – and some of the straps, there was no strain on any part of his body. And of course with the added pulley system of assorted hoists and ropes allowing Dean to position Sam just about any way he wanted – horizontal, vertical, angled forward or back – Dean had everything arranged just so – Sam’s belly hanging heavy mid-air and uncumbersome, and his brother doing things to his body that… Yeah, Dean was awesome.  
Standing in front of him – Dean having dangled him tilting forward at the perfect groin-to-mouth level – his brother sucked Sam’s cock like it was an Olympic sport and he was going for the gold. Back when Sam was still Alpha, Dean would practically unhinge his jaw, letting him knot inside his mouth, swallowing convulsively around the length fucking into his throat as Sam had shot copious amounts of cum down Dean’s eager gullet. It was still good, phenomenal actually. And though Sam really did miss the sensation and rush of knotting, with Dean’s hands on his hips and forehead rhythmically bumping against his belly, mouth on him like a fucking Hoover and those hungry little growling sounds he made, Sam _still_ shot down his brother’s throat like a speeding locomotive.

Dean licked his lips…then up the underside of Sam’s belly.

Sam groaned, his spent cock giving a determined twitch.

“We’re just gettin’ started, sweetheart. Hang on.” Dean pulling at this cord and that, until Sam was hanging horizontal facing the floor, he walked around behind and teasingly slid his hands up the inside of Sam’s thighs before forcefully spreading them apart.

Of course, much as his brother had always loved sucking cock, and relished the flavor of Sam’s cum, since the first taste Dean had been addicted to Sam’s slick.  
That Omegas only produced slick when in heat was some sort of myth, or misinformation, or maybe Sam’s new self-lubricating functions were just all screwed to hell. Whenever he was aroused, he got wet. Whenever he caught Dean’s scent, wet. Whenever Dean was within ten feet and _he_ got aroused…Sam was fucking soaked! It was annoying, and demeaning, and gross, and the first time Dean moaned into his core that it was better than fucking pie, made Sam cum from just eating his ass like he was out to prove it…yeah, it was totally worth it.

“Fuck, Sammy, could totally cum just from this. Taste so damn good.”

“Don’t you dare, Dean, not this time. When you cum? Once, twice, how many ever times, it’s going to be with you tied in my ass. Want to get fucked deep and hard and long. So damn full of your spunk when we’re done, won’t even be able to hold it inside.”

“Love it when you talk dirty, bad porn to me, Sammy.”

“Shut up and eat my hole, Dean.”

“Such a bossy bottom bitch in your last trimester.” Dean chuckled, the laughter reverberating through Sam’s body as he dove back in – tongue and teeth teasing his rim before French kissing his hole.

Feeling Dean’s fingers slip up inside to pull him open wide and lick along his inner-walls – sound of his brother slurping his slick echoing through the room – it was too much and not enough! “Enough, Dean, enough! Gotta fuck me, please!”

“Okay, Sammy, I got ya.” Dean eased his fingers from Sam’s ass, kissed above the gape and up along the crack to Sam’s tailbone. “Gonna raise you up, vertical, then lower you a bit.”

“Don’t care right now if you flip me upside down, long as it means getting your cock inside me.”

“Huh,” Dean muttered, “have to try that some time.”

Sam found himself momentarily distracted with sudden thoughts of the logistics involved in that. It had its possibilities, just… “Another time.”

“Definitely.” Positioned right where Dean wanted him – Sam essentially sitting mid-air, ass poised right over his cock – Dean took hold of Sam’s hips and thrust up.

Sam cried out, an explosion of stars around the edges of his vision.

“That what you needed, baby boy?” Dean slid out slow, driving back in all the harder, deeper – once, twice – just enough give in the ropes, and hands still on Sam’s hips, Dean took up a steady, brutal rhythm of bouncing him up and down on his cock. “Big brother making you take it?”

“Y _essss_! Oh fuck, Dean, so damn good.” His brother taking him, claiming him, cock inside him where it belonged… Nothing, ever, felt more right.

Letting Sam sit on his cock, Dean simply rotated his hips, fully sheathed length like an animal burrowing deep inside, making itself a home. Hands off of Sam’s hips, he reached around, massaging the swell he’d put there before tweaking sensitive nipples, coaxing them to give up a few drops he collected on his fingers and slipped into Sam’s mouth. Chest pressed up snug to Sam’s back, Dean leaned in and spoke softly against the shell of his ear, “Gonna knot you, Sammy, fill you up with my cum. And then? Then I’m going to flip you onto your back and start all…over…again. And what are _you_ going to do, little brother?”

“Take it, Dean. Everything my big brother gives me.” Sam gasped, cried out, his brother suddenly biting into his claiming mark as the bulbous swell of Dean’s knot was driven past the rim of his ass. The world went dark around the edges, nothing but him and Dean, bodies locked together, as the powerful orgasm swept through him.

And as Dean had promised, they were only getting started…


	2. Chapter 2

[ ](http://imgbox.com/ZQvk2e4j)

_**Chapter Two  
~   
THEN   
9 years ago   
Carmel, Indiana ** _

[ ](http://imgbox.com/ssOEhSCD)

He’d known they’d fuck it up. And with the Crocuta realizing they were on to her, he equally knew she’d figure they’d expect her to skip town. Whether those ignorant shits thought that or not, _he_ knew she wouldn’t. Research, logic, and pure gut instinct, he’d already tracked down the next most likely victim. The Crocuta, she’d missed her feeding, and while she could go a day or two, put some distance between her and the Hunters, why should she with another kid she could feed on right there in town?   
Doing a drive by to check out the house earlier in the day, he’d damn near killed her himself when she’d swerved out in front of his car on her bike – her older sister, screaming, had rushed out after her. He’d stopped, done the expected thing and gotten out to make sure she was alright.   
He’d known she was a third daughter, born during a full moon. Objectively a cute kid, while her older sister had remained leery and guarded, he’d also learned she was friendly and chatty. He’d figured it was probably a shame or something, how later that night she’d be dead. 

_**~ ~ ~** _

He spotted the Crocuta entering the house through binoculars from where he was hidden, heard the first screams as he slipped in through the back door. He found the mother bleeding out on the kitchen floor, eyes going glassy as she gasped wordlessly for help. He rushed through the house, up the stairs, stepped over the father’s lifeless body – head spun round backwards – without faltering, and busted into the bedroom where the shrill, incessant screaming was coming from. The older girl from earlier was futilely beating her fists against the creature bent over her little sister. She was brave, he’d give her that. More important, she was a welcome distraction, giving him the perfect opportunity to come up from behind and stab the Crocuta through the jugular. He could see the carnage when it reared up, screeching as chunks of gore dangled and fell from its gaping maw before it collapsed forward, dead.  
He may not’ve given a shit, not really, still he swept up the older girl and hurried her from the room. She didn’t need to see her little sister like that, what was left of her. Didn’t need to see her dad or mom either. Forced her head against his neck where she’d all but gone limp in his hold. Likely shock. He didn’t put her down until they were on the front porch. There were sirens in the not-so-far distance. Neighbors probably heard the screaming, called it in. He wrapped her in a blanket he’d nabbed off the sofa on the way out. Seemed like the right thing to do. It was summer, but she was shivering. Definitely shock. He told her to stay put, help was coming. Said he was sorry, even though he wasn’t. He’d killed the monster, that was what mattered. He was halfway down the walk when the voice startled him.

“You…you knew. Could…could’ve stopped it.”

He didn’t turn around. “There was no other way. I’m sorry. She… She seemed like a good kid.”  
Sirens closer, porch lights flicking on and front doors opening, he rushed off down and around the block to where he’d parked. He was already thinking about the next Hunt before he pulled away from the curb.

[ ](http://imgbox.com/DmBZvcEg)

_**NOW  
Red Cloud, Nebraska** _

Barring anything that required their immediate attention, Tuesdays were family day. Typically they were errand day as well, though Dean and Sam did their best to make it fun for Jamie.  
Usually they’d head into town. Spend some time at the park, if the weather was decent, then make a stop at the library (kid had apparently inherited the bookworm gene from his daddy), and maybe head to the ice cream parlor or toy store. Sometimes they’d eat in town before running errands. Other times errands came first, and after they’d get take-out to eat at home.   
Once back at the farm, they’d play for hours. Jamie loved being outdoors, exploring the nature around him. They’d play catch or tag. Go down to the swimming hole in the warm months, build snow people and animals and forts when it snowed. And when dusk fell in the summer, Jamie would run around catching fireflies while Dean and Sam watched, listening to the crickets and frogs and owls, and the happy shrieks of their son over the simplest joy of catching another bug with a butt that lit up. If they got stuck playing inside, they had plenty of board games, jigsaw puzzles, Lego sets, kid friendly movies, and a ridiculous amount of Matchbox cars. If nothing else, Dean and Sam were always down with helping Jamie make a good old-fashioned indoor fort – nearly every pillow, blanket, and easily moved chair in the downstairs put to use.  
Of course, the last few weeks, Sam he’d been winding down. Nesting and frequent napping, it had been the same when he’d been pregnant with Jameson, all of his energy diverted in the last couple months to the final touches of creating their kid.  
Even though Sam knew they’d be heading into town without him, Dean still left a note on the old steamer trunk that served as a coffee table. Draping a crocheted throw blanket over Sam’s gently snoring form, Dean kissed his brother on the forehead before he quietly gathered Jamie and headed them out of the house.

Dean took their gravel back road leading up to River Road, where they’d cut over and catch U.S. 281 straight into Red Cloud. Dinky little dust town, not even big enough for a Walmart, had all the basics though: schools, library, park, grocery, hardware, half-dozen decent enough restaurants, a passable liquor store, and a couple’a dive bars him and his brother visited now and again – few beers, game of pool or two, no hustling, brawling, or picking up the rare chic to share, it was purely nostalgia.  
Hardly ever any traffic to speak of on their dirt road – only their own people, the odd delivery truck or poor lost sucker – with Dean half-way to River Road the unmoving min-van, hood up, was impossible to miss. Most likely some sorry chump took a wrong turn, had the misfortune to break down in BFE.  
Approaching slowly, Dean immediately recognized the driver as she stepped out and waved. Smiling, he pulled over on the opposite side of the road.

“I was just about to call you,” Kayla called out, waving the cellphone in her hand as Dean and Jameson got out of the car.

“Kayla, Kayla!” Jameson shouted. 

Force of habit, Dean held him back as he made sure no cars were coming, then turned the exuberant boy loose to cross over to the younger woman.

Smiling back cheerfully, she swooped Jameson up into her arms. “Teddy! How’s my most favorite little boy?”

“Great! We’re going to the park, want to come? You can even push me on the swings!”

Kayla laughed, though she looked to Dean, puzzled. “I was on my way to you guys’s place when my van decided to go kaput. I thought I was on Teddy duty today?”

“Hmm, nope, not today. Tuesdays are family days. Well, unless something urgent comes up.” Dean scrunched his brown, head flinching back, confused. “But you know that.”

“Huh. I thought…well never mind what I thought,” Kayla laughed, waving her hand dismissively, “obviously I was wrong. Anyway, shoot! Here me and my clunker are imposing on your family time, and you didn’t even need me. I’m so sorry, Dean.”

Dean chuckled. “Don’t even worry about it. Let’s just take a look, see if I can’t get you back running again.” Dean stepped over to where Kayla already had the hood popped and started looking around.

Setting Jameson down, Kayla moved in next to Dean. “See anything?”

“Well, I think maybe–“ Dean barely registered the sudden sting in the side of his neck before his body seized where he stood, oddly both rigid and twitching before he crumpled to the ground.

“Pawpaw!” Jameson shrieked, dropping to his knees beside his father and shaking him.

On instinct, Dean reached out for his son, only his arm didn’t move. He tried again, panic mounting as he realized he could barely even feel his body, let alone control it. Even his eyes, wide open and unblinking, were unable to shift, Dean’s gaze fixed straight ahead.

“Oh no!” Kayla cried, feigning surprise and upset. “I think he touched something bad under the hood, we better get him into the van and to the hospital!”

“ _Don’t you fucking touch me, you psychotic bitch_!” Dean roared in his head, Kayla replacing Jameson in his line of sight. Anger and terror collided as he was helpless to respond to Jameson’s hysteric cries, helpless to keep his body from being hefted, dragged, and heaved as Kayla wrangled him into the minivan. It didn’t make any sense. She’d been training with them for over two years. Swiftly moved up in the ranks to helper – and as it turned out to their detriment, a masterful hunter. They’d also considered her a friend. Hell, she'd watched after Jameson for them countless times. It struck Dean that while he had no fucking clue _why_ , it was scary obvious…she'd been biding her time. And the real kicker of it? Kayla was entirely human.  
Lying on his side in the van, Dean watched as Jameson came into view, warily approaching as he sniffled amid hitching sobs. 

“K…k…Kayla? I…I thought…thought it didn’t work?” Jameson mumbled.

“ _Shit, shit,_ _ **fuck**_!” Dean’s mind raced. He didn’t know what Kayla was planning, what she might do to Jameson, but if his son questioned her… 

“What’s that, kiddo?”

“I…I thought your van was broken?”

Kayla laughed.

“ _ **No**_!” Dean watched as Kayla took a small brown bottle and a cloth into her hands, the twisted audacity as she actually winked at Dean.

“Kid, you’re too damn smart for your own good.” Swiftly grabbing Jameson by the arm, she yanked him towards her and had his mouth and nose covered before he could even think to bolt. Seeming entirely apathetic as the small body struggled uselessly, she waited for him to go limp before loading him in next to Dean.

Dean screamed and thrashed and struggled inside his head, catching slivers of Kayla working to bind them in his line of sight.

“Expect we’ll be to our destination before either of you two are able to move or speak again,” Kayla offered as she covered Dean’s mouth with duct tape, “but you are _Winchesters_ after all, better to not risk it.”

The side door inevitably sliding closed, Dean listened as she got into the driver’s seat and started the van. He tried to calm his breathing. It would be so easy to let the negative thoughts overtake him – how very fucked they were, and how he at least hoped she’d spare Jameson. Instead Dean latched on to truth… He was going to kill this bitch…unless Sam got to her first. He had to steady himself, clear his mind and stay focused and on the alert for any opening to get the upper hand. He had to stay strong and positive for Jamie. Dean had to do everything he could to keep them alive.

_**~ ~ ~** _

She took them to the bunker. The motherfucking, batshit, cunt from Hell had taken him and Jameson to the bunker, down to the second-level sub-basement – yet _another_ fucking hidden room. She’d obviously discovered it and was using it for her twisted agenda.  
Dean was gonna be bruised to hell from where she’d rolled him down all of those stairs, but at least she’d had the decency to carry Jameson. Head still muzzy, he’d taken in the room as she’d dragged him through it. Dean wasn’t sure of the architectural logistics of it, but there were four steps down into the spacious concrete room. It was mostly empty, smelled like cold and mildew. On one side, an old metal office desk and matching file cabinets, a couple of Barrister’s bookcases filled with books, a few more shelves filled with various whatnots. One of the shelving units stocked full with assorted food, along with the obviously new mini-fridge beside it, she’d likely been sneaking down supplies for weeks before abducting them. On the side he and Jamie were restricted to, there was a stainless steel toilet and sink, and two cot mattresses covered with sleeping bags on the floor. The Hilton it wasn’t, though truth of it him and Sam had definitely stayed in worse.   
Zip ties had been switched out for wrist and ankle shackles attached to thick cables connected to hooks anchored into the wall – Jamie’s mercifully padded. The duct tape traded for locking ball gags – again the straps on Jameson’s padded though still snug. Seeing his kid like that, bound and gagged and helpless… Yeah, when this fucked up nightmare was all over, him and Sam would just have to find other ways to spice up their sex life because hell fucking no.  
Whatever she’d nailed Dean with had eventually worn off, about the same time Jameson came round. Not that it mattered. A couple of hours having passed for Dean to think, and observe, and this abduction, or whatever the fuck it was, for whatever reason, had been executed perfectly.  
Kayla had knowledge – and, of course, fucking access – to the bunker. She had complete access to the training itinerary and Hunt logs, meaning she’d know where most everyone was and how long they’d be gone, at any given time. It wasn’t unheard of for her to put out a call for someone to check into a potential Hunt or even make a supply run. And she’d been the one to offer up working on the sub-basements. After they’d gotten a general idea of the rooms and the contents, while it hadn’t been a priority, Dean and Sam and Bobby had agreed it’d be a good idea to gradually catalog it all.  
She’d also been in their home, watching Jamie for them. She knew personal details about Dean and Sam’s lives – like how Tuesdays were family day and they almost always went into Red Cloud late morning. How lately Sam had been skipping the trip.  
The worst part, the twisted fucking irony of it all… They’d trained her. And Dean knew just how good she was. Smart, strong. She had the brains for planning, to think outside of the box, consider all contingencies and cover all her bases. She also had the brawn, matching her with the men when they sparred – her added cunning usually taking them down.  
Dean so caught up in his thoughts while Kayla did…whatever the fuck it was she’d been preoccupied with on her laptop over at the desk, he startled when she pushed back in the chair, stood, and began talking.

“You know the part I love about this the most? The complete mind-fuck it’ll be for Sam when he realizes you two were right under his nose – practically literally – the whole damn time.” She paused, laughed sardonically to herself. “The same way I’ve been all this time.” Walking towards Dean, she squatted down directly in front of him – just out of reach. “The same way I’ll _continue_ to be.”

Forcing himself to remain still, not give her the satisfaction of watching him pointlessly struggle, like some fucking bug she’d plucked the wings off of, Dean narrowed his eyes and glared daggers at her. So maybe it wasn’t a threat to her, not right then, but it sure as hell was a promise.

She stared right back at him, met his fierce gaze directly on as she cocked her head. She leaned forward, whispered just loud enough for Dean to hear, “No one will ever know it was me.”

Dean got what she hadn’t said, what she hadn’t needed to, the implication loud and fucking clear.

She stood up, paced the room, withdrew a small hunting knife from where she kept it concealed in a sheath at the small of her back, flipped it in the air as she walked and never once missed catching it by the hilt. “It’s going to be a real treat watching your mate – your brother – fall apart. I’ll keep you two here for a couple of weeks, maybe longer. Send him photos of the both of you, video clips, false clues. All that shock, terror, frustration, grief…guilt. Even fury. The relentless, and futile I might add, search for his Alpha and his son, it’s bound to take its toll. Wear down his poor Omega body. Imagine he’ll barely be able to sleep, to eat, and all that stress on the baby? Why,” she stopped, pivoted, with a sickening grin stared into Dean’s eyes, “he might just lose…well.” She shrugged, unrepentant for what she was blatantly alluding to.

Dean tasted the bile rising at the back of his throat, swallowed against it. What she was suggesting… Hunters, they didn’t kill humans, even the bad ones, unless it was unavoidable or a last resort. Given the chance, Dean wouldn’t hesitate to rip Kayla apart with his bare hands. No matter how much it disgusted and infuriated him to look at her, he kept his eyes trained on her every move, watching her once more in her predatory pacing.

“So, here’s how this is going to go. No one’s coming down here, and even if they do, nobody knows about this room. It’s also soundproof. I tested it. Now, if you’re good little boys, if you behave yourselves – no screaming, fighting, or trying to get free – I’ll take off the gags. You’ve got enough give in the cables to reach the toilet and sink, the mattresses, and each other. Disobey, any and all of that can change. There’s a plastic cup for water. You’ll eat when I feed you. In the box,” she nodded towards a plain, medium sized cardboard box against the wall behind Dean and Jameson, “there’s books, puzzles, crosswords, a few toys. These next couple-few weeks, I can make them as painless as possible for you two…or not. And then when it’s time…” she had the courtesy, if you could call it that, considering, to lean down and whisper the rest in Dean’s ear, “I’ll livestream it, gut you and Teddy open while your darling _Sammy_ watches. And as long as you don’t piss me off, Dean, I’ll give Teddy something to put him under first. He won’t feel a thing.”

Purely on instinct, a knee-jerk reaction, fucking psychotic piece of shit planning on killing his son and hoping for the death of his unborn daughter, Dean tried to headbutt her. Of course the aim was all wrong, barely tapped her. His fury triggered, unleashed, and no outlet, Dean screamed from behind his ball gag, writhed like a wild animal against his restraints.

Kayla jerked back, though when she stood it was with ease and calm. Confidence. “Ah-ah-ah, Dean. Not off to a good start now, are we?” she chastised, a fake frown marring her face as she cocked her head and _tsked_ at him. “Don’t say I didn’t give you a choice.” Obviously punishment – with no care for their safety or suffering – leaving them gagged she walked across the room to the door and opened it. “I’ll see you two in the morning…or not. Sleep well.” With that, she shut off the lights, the room enveloped in near pitch dark except for the sliver of light coming from outside the room – which disappeared as she left and closed the door behind her, the sound of bolts and locks echoing through their prison.

Dean blindly reached out for Jamie, aiming for the muffled cries and sniffling, and pulled his son onto his lap, cradling him tight as he rocked him back and forth.   
He’d keep vigilant for her to fuck up, pray to whatever God and deities he could think of for any opening, no matter how unlikely he figured it was. Even though he hated it, the only hope Dean had to cling to was what he saw as a major flaw in her plan: dragging this out. Much as it went against his nature, if he could do as she said, make sure Jamie did the same, that gave them time…time for Sam to find them. 


	3. Chapter 3

[ ](http://imgbox.com/UCLrnggY)

_**Chapter Three  
~  
THEN  
5 years ago  
Red Cloud, Nebraska** _

[ ](http://imgbox.com/QFID5GWu)

The Victorian farmhouse had been Bobby’s gift to them – an old buddy who owed him a favor all he’d say about it – and Sam and Dean had known better than to turn it down.  
It’d needed some fixing up, had sat empty for some time. Nothing more than a weekend of the three of them putting some elbow grease into it, Bobby had promised.  
Over a century old, it was solid, and still retained most of its original charm: brass fixtures, intricate woodwork and ornately carved hearths, a claw-foot-tub in one of the baths upstairs, much of it in good condition. Two-stories (plus attic and basement), five-bedrooms, three-baths, a massive wrap around sitting porch, it even had a turret along with some modest gingerbread details. And the location, that couldn’t have been better if they’d planned it.  
The bunker actually about five miles north of Lebanon proper, built along White Rock river, the house wasn’t even quite ten miles north of it, right over the Kansas/Nebraska state line and only another six miles or so to Red Cloud. Eleven acres of private country setting, perfect for raising kids…and for making it a supernatural Fort Knox. Using the bunker as reference, they warded it to the hilt – the house, land, and best they could a three-mile radius. Security systems, traditional and mystical safeguards alike, were installed all around the property. Enochian, sigils, hoodoo, white magic, anything positive was utilized to help protect them from all the supernatural baddies they could think of. With the acreage at the end of a dead-end gravel road, about a mile down from getting them back on pavement on River Road, they also began work on a secret, obscured drive back through the trees, leading them out onto Road C. Nothing but a dirt cut through for the Impala – or the old Ford truck that’d come with the farm, Dean’d have it running soon enough – to make an emergency escape.  
Of course, Charlie had shown up once they’d started in. Surprised them with food and an assortment of other provisions, insisted the place had to have a woman’s touch. Sam thought it was sweet, appreciated her caring and input. Dean had groused how they were men, and it was a _man’s_ home. Loving Charlie like a kid sister, of course he would have indulged her regardless, but Charlie asking him what exactly he planned on doing if they had a girl, that had shut his brother up pretty damn quick. Sam knew it was a boy. Too early to tell for sure, he still just knew. Wasn’t about to tell Dean that though, especially when Sam hoped the next one _would_ be a girl.  
The house suited them. And the more work they’d put into it, as they’d started to settle in, the more it had truly begun to feel like a home.  
In the months that had come, Sam loved to think how it would be the house – their _home_ – his and Dean’s son would be born in… … … 

[ ](http://imgbox.com/jeW40s3A)

_**> >> Six Months Later <<<** _

One week to go before his official due date, and Sam was bitchy, achy, exhausted, had merciless acid reflux, and was practically out of his mind horny. Incessantly. Hadn’t let Dean leave the house for a week. If his brother wasn’t fucking him, he was blowing him. If he wasn’t fisting him, Sam was riding his cock. To be fair, his need for Dean wasn’t _entirely_ sex-centric. If Dean wasn’t helping to pull him out of a chair, he was massaging the small of his back with a pain relief salve of peppermint/lavender/chamomile essential oils – or the taught skin stretched over his swollen belly with some sort of herbal pregnancy cream Charlie had given him. And if Dean wasn’t curled up with him while Sam cried like the hormonal Omega his body insisted he was, his brother was in the kitchen making scrambled eggs and the most amazingly thin and airy pancakes – for whatever reason, the only thing besides applesauce, or apple juice, that Sam could keep down. 

Sam wasn’t sure what day it was, what time it was, or even what round they were on – ever grateful for Dean’s incredible refractory time, along with the plentiful production of Sam’s slick that kept both of them from chafing – his only care the slow, methodical slide of Dean’s cock in and out of his body from where his brother was spooned behind him. Not even the stupid, returning taunt of the “false contractions” he’d been having, off and on for the last few weeks, could distract Sam from the blissful “sex high” he was floating on. Dean had already made Sam cum once this round, draining his “tits” while he’d played with his ass, Sam sucking the sticky sweet colostrum from Dean’s tongue. Okay, so Sam hadn’t developed _actual_ breasts, really nothing more than a barely noticeable puffiness to his chest when his milk had started coming in…which had turned Dean into a slack-jawed, drooling idiot. The lactation, Sam’s ever-growing bump, the act itself of knocking Sam up…yeah, his brother had a total pregnancy kink. Sam couldn’t say he minded. Just like he didn’t mind Dean reaching around and wheedling his nipples into giving up a few more drops, then rubbing the tacky fluid over the swell of his belly as he thrust into him harder, teasing nips to the nape of his neck, over his claiming mark, and along the tops of his shoulder… And oh _fuck_ , Sam was going to cum again!

Suddenly stilling his hips, Dean ran the palm of his hand down along the curve of Sam’s ass. “Hey, Sam, not like you getting wet for me isn’t a major turn-on, but, uh, this is, uh…”

“Shit, Dean, I think my water just broke,” Sam whispered, words crackling around the edges with the hint of hysteria he felt. He…he wasn’t ready for this. The birthing, the baby, the kid raising, **none** of it!

Dean frowned, lips pursed, eyebrow arched, head tilting to-and-fro, contemplative. “Huh. That’d explain it.”

“Dean!” Sam snapped. “Get out of me!”

“Don’t know, Sammy, kinda think my cock’s like the whole ‘finger in the dam’ deal right now. I pull out, you might flood the joint.”

Sam whirled his head around, twisting his torso and craning his neck to glare daggers at his idiotic and insufferable as fuck brother – Dean having the audacity to grin back.

“Hey now, least you’re not freaking out anymore, are ya?” Waggling his eyebrows, Dean leaned forward and planted a firm _smacking_ kiss to Sam’s lips.

“You’re an asshole,” Sam groused back, grunting as Dean eased his softening cock free from his ass. He was right though, Sam _was_ distracted from his initial panic, and, appallingly enough, he was also right about the other… Sam cringed at the actual _whooshing_ sound as fluid gushed from his hole.

“And you’re… _Having my baby_ ,” Dean began to sing, seemingly entirely unconcerned with the pool of amniotic fluid they were both lying in, “ _what a lovely way of saying how much you love me_.”

Torn between shoving himself away from Dean and his off-key singing, or grabbing him and kissing him (okay, in part just to shut him up), Sam squirmed around until he was sitting up…and laughed. Boisterous, full-up pregnant belly shaking, laughed. That was until the contraction hit. “ **F _uuuuck_** ,” he roared, wide-eyed and hand scrambling to grab hold of Dean.

“And here we go,” Dean offered, voice gentle and calm as he took Sam’s hand and let him squeeze the hell out of it. “Easy, Sammy, breathe through it, just like we learned. Do all that visualization shit you love.”

Undecided again, punch Dean or… Sam nodded, blew out a long breath and then followed Dean’s breathing pattern. What felt like the longest thirty to forty seconds of his life, Sam finally took a deep cleansing breath and let go of Dean’s hand, both of them going to his belly and rubbing circles. “It’s gonna be a long night, kid.”

Smiling, and chuckling fondly, Dean grabbed his cellphone off the nightstand, noted the time, “It’s 7:32.” and got off the bed. Around to Sam’s side, he bent over and kissed Sam on the crown of his head. “Love you so stinkin’ much. You got this, Sammy.” Bending down further, he pressed his lips to Sam’s distended belly button. “And we _both_ got you, little man.”

“You going to call Emilio?”

“Nah, figured I’d let you make that one, if you’re up to it. Being your midwife and all, he’ll probably have questions you can better answer. ‘sides, I want to get downstairs and start filling the birthing pool. Can call Bobby though, and Charlie, that is if you still want…”

“Bobby, of course, yeah. Charlie too. Not that some of the others aren’t like family, but Bobby obviously, and Charlie… Well you get what I mean.”

“That I do. Holler if you need me, otherwise back in a few to help you get downstairs and situated.”

“Hey, Dean!” Sam shouted just as Dean stepped out the door, making his brother pause, only a sliver of his back in Sam’s sights. “I love you too.” No immediate response, a few seconds later… 

“ _You're the man I love, and I love what it's doing to ya. Having my baby…_ ”

_**~ ~ ~** _

At 12:37am, six pounds and three ounces of the next generation – a line Sam and Dean had expected to die out with them – was brought into the world. Jameson Theodore Winchester. Baby and daddy doing just fine.   
Emilio’d said Sam had likely been in labor most of the day. As was often enough the case with male Omegas, it was hard to distinguish between “false contractions” and the real deal during the initial hours of laboring.

Dean couldn’t stop crying. To be fair, neither could Sam. Bobby, along with Charlie, holding it together a little better, but there really wasn’t a dry eye in the wonderful old farmhouse except for Emilio’s. Of course this was just another day, another delivery for him. They were friendly, Emilio part of their team, but they weren’t particularly close. Emilio coming to them as a professional midwife – his wife killed by a vamp, he’d gotten into the life via the Hunter who’d taken out the vamp before it could kill Emilio too. Not much for Hunting himself, as it turned out, he’d still wanted to help. Discovering and joining the training facility, the funding had been “arranged” to send him to nursing school, Emilio becoming the personal medic for ‘ _Hunter’s Hogwarts_ ’ and well earning everyone taking to calling him ‘Doc’. Still, mere comrades that they were, even Emilio was smiling and giddy, the joyful vibe in the house infectious.

Sam out of the birthing tub, dried off, and comfortable on the soft and cozy “nest” they’d made in the living room – and Jameson gently cleaned and weighed and tested – everyone made themselves scarce to give the new little family some privacy. Laying there with Dean and his son, Sam marveled at the tiny and wrinkled and pink miracle they’d made – skin-to-skin, Jamie resting against Sam’s chest as he nursed.

“You did good, Sammy. Knew you would.” Dean on his side curled up next to Sam where they were reclined on a pile of pillows, leaned in and kissed Sam’s temple, his jaw, his lips.

Sam opened to him, let their tongues glide and tangle together lazily. It wasn’t chaste, but it wasn’t exactly heated either – a tender affirmation of what was between them, an acknowledgment of what they’d created.

Eventually pulling back, Dean nudging Sam’s nose with his own, he looked down at his son, reaching out and trailing a finger over brand new, delicate skin. “Think maybe we should send Don that fruit basket now?” Dean snorted lightly.

“Hah!” Sam couldn’t help but to exclaim, cupping Jamie’s back and bottom, soothing the disrupted newborn. “I don’t…” Sam paused, caressing his son and then looking over to the see the immense love and pride shining in his brother’s eyes. “Yeah, Dean, maybe we should.”

“Sammy–“

“Just… Pretty sure I’m always going to feel weird about it, my Status. Don’t think I’ll ever stop feeling, identifying as, Alpha. But this, Dean? Him? _Us_? Everything important and precious we’ve gained because of my being changed? I can’t not be grateful for it, you know?”

Dean kissed him again, a forceful press of lips – hand gripping the nape of Sam’s neck, fingers rubbing along the ridged scars of his claiming mark – before he pulled back and touched their foreheads together. “Yeah, Sammy, I know.”

[ ](http://imgbox.com/MI39oJeb)

_**NOW** _

Sam had been having a nightmare. Dean and Jameson, blanketed in darkness, trapped, screaming for him… He’d bolted upright – a veritable feat with as far along as he was – heart pounding, drenched in sweat, threatening taste of bile. The living room growing dim with dusk setting in, he barely saw the note Dean had left on the old steamer trunk.

Something was wrong.

Certain he wouldn’t get a reply, he still called out for Dean and Jamie. Twice. He called Dean’s cell, which went straight to voicemail. Sam called Bobby.

“Hey ya–“

“Tell me they’re with you, that you’ve seen them!” Sam demanded, as if he could will it so with the urgent command of his voice alone.

“Sit tight, son, I’ll be right there.”

_**~ ~ ~** _

Hearing Bobby’s truck approaching, Sam flung the front door open and rushed out onto the porch, hurried down the steps, pleading the second Bobby stopped and opened his truck door, “Tell me you found them!”

Bobby walked towards Sam, somber, waited to answer until he was in Sam’s space, “We found the Impala, up the road a piece, pointed towards River Road. Empty, Sam. Doors closed, keys still in the ignition.”

“Oh God.” Sam felt his knees buckle, was vaguely aware of Bobby grabbing his shoulders tight, shuffling him back to land his ass on the porch steps when he inevitably went down.

Calling Jody back at the bunker, Bobby told her to activate the SOS: all Hunters and trainees, drop what they were doing or finish fast. Book it back to the bunker, one of their own was in trouble.

[ ](http://imgbox.com/jeW40s3A)

_**> >> ~ S&D ~ <<<** _

After the initial shock had worn off, Sam had become a force. He hadn’t merely gone into Hunter mode – all those years of ingrained training and developed instincts – this was his brother, his _son_ , some deeper primal drive to protect his family – Sam’s _offspring_ , his _mate_ – being triggered and activated. He knew they were alive. Staunchly refused to consider or believe otherwise. If whatever took them simply wanted them dead, there…there would’ve been bodies.  
Sam became relentless.

He put everyone they had on it – full-fledged Hunters and trainees alike – figuring out what the hell took Dean and Jameson and finding them becoming priority one. Charlie and Eileen, along with Garth, temporarily moved out to the farm. Someone always needed to be there. In case Dean and Jameson came back. In case whatever took them did.  
There’d been no signs of a struggle where the Impala had been left, no blood, no clues. If only Dean’s baby could talk, Sam had oddly thought. All of the secrets the car kept for him and Dean they’d never want revealed, if only the old girl could speak up now and tell Sam what had happened.   
There’d been no trail to follow. None of the wardings had been touched, none of the supernatural booby traps had been tripped, and the spot had been just outside the range of their surveillance cameras.  
They’d reached out to every contact, put out every feeler. Sam and Bobby and Rufus had even summoned up Crowley, who’d seemed genuinely surprised – even distressed – once he’d simmered down from being conjured and trapped. Enemies or not, fact of it was Crowley’d always had a soft spot for the Winchesters. Had sent a stuffed animal – a damned Hell Hound, “Custom made, of course.” scrawled on the note of congratulations – when Jameson had been born. Still randomly sent him gifts. He promised to do some asking around – aka torturing – of his own, would be in touch if he discovered anything.

Sam barely slept or ate, powering through those first few days, determined to come up with something, fucking anything!

[ ](http://imgbox.com/iF3Al5FE)

_**> >> Lebanon, Kansas <<<** _

“Sam! Sam! Where’s Sam?” Garth yelled as he came tearing into the bunker, practically falling down the stairs as he wildly waved the manila envelope in his hand.

Rushing from the library into the central hub, Sam called out in hopeful reply, “Tell me they’re back!”

Stopping himself just short of slamming into Sam’s protruding stomach, Garth bent over, panting. “I’m sorry, Sam, no. This just arrived at the farm, by courier.” He thrust the envelope out to Sam.

“Don’t touch it, boy!” Bobby hollered, voice booming through the room. “No tellin’ what might be in there, just…”

As hard as it was for Sam not to grab it and rip it open, Bobby was right…and Sam was pregnant. Not that he, or any of the dozen or so people in the room, were expecting a bomb or anything like that, they couldn’t discount there being spellwork attached to it.

Like he’d read Sam’s mind, Bobby tried to reassure him. “Not likely somethin’ supernatural could get by all the wardings, but not hesitatin’ to be over cautious with you and my granddaughter in there. Don’t need some poisonous critter or somethin’ crawlin’ out.”

Definitely overly cautious, still Sam nodded. “Okay, alright, just… Please, Bobby.”

No further hesitation, Bobby shooed everyone back, taking the envelope – along with any danger upon himself – and went over to the table to open it.

Seized by the cold grip of dread and terror, Sam watched as Bobby’s shoulders visibly fell. He couldn’t take it, rushing up beside him and looking down at what was held fast in Bobby’s trembling hand.  
Sam stared at the pixelated proof, that at least as of yesterday, his brother and son were still alive. Dean and Jameson, bound, gagged, and blindfolded – a newspaper from Boulder, Colorado taped to Dean’s chest, the previous day’s date on it. The image had obviously been crudely photoshopped – the choppy and distorted quality making it even more disturbing. Their bodies had been cut out and pasted onto a tropical beach – sun, sand, and ocean waves, beach blankets and colorful sun umbrellas. In the background another photoshopped image had been superimposed. A fishing boat, ten-foot shark dangling from a crane and gutted open, innards spilling out onto the deck around the fishermen’s feet – all of the heads replaced with those of Bobby, Rufus, Charlie, Jody, and Garth from obvious surveillance photo cut-outs, all disproportionately sized and angled.  
Sam lurched sideways, thankful for the wastebasket beside the table as he puked up what little he’d managed to eat for lunch.

A hush fell over the room, the only sound coming from a softly crying Donna, encircled in Jody’s arms.

Bobby took out his cellphone and placed a call to Missouri Moseley.

[ ](http://imgbox.com/IDEEsemg)

_**> >> Red Cloud, Nebraska <<<** _

Despite so many years passing since they’d been in touch, Missouri made the three-hour drive between Omaha and the farm two days later, apologizing for not being able to come sooner.

Sam and Bobby’s suspicions growing, they’d decided to keep news of her arrival to a select circle – even fewer being allowed at the farm to have knowledge of what transpired.

Missouri’s car was barely in park before she was out of it and up the front steps and into the house, not even bothering to knock. Giving Bobby a brief nod of greeting, she made her way into the kitchen, Sam standing up from the table and Missouri taking him into her arms. Garth turning off the stove, he left the room – Charlie and Eileen following. Sam hadn’t cried since Jamie and Dean had been taken, not once. Left alone with the maternal and nurturing woman, Sam wept.

“I need you to be strong, Sam. I realize it’s hard, but you’ve got to get some sleep, keep your body nourished. That little girl inside of you is counting on you…and so are your brother and son. They _are_ alive, Sam. And they’re…they’re close. Almost as though I can reach out, if I could just turn the right corner, take the right stairs…” Missouri’s voice trailed off, the woman obviously caught up in a moment of deep concentration before she went on, “And the person who took them, I can almost see her, but every time I try to focus in… It’s definitely a woman though, that much I can say.”

“Wait! Do you mean…”

“Human, Sam. Disturbed to be sure, but human, I’m almost certain of it.”

Sam had to sit. Stumbling backwards, Missouri at his side, steadying him, Sam sat down heavily at the kitchen table. Human. Not a demon or a shifter. Not some witch or vamp whose coven or nest they’d taken out. A fucking _person_ had abducted his son and brother. Sam, Bobby, a few of the others, they’d considered it after the image had arrived. But to have Missouri all but confirm it? Sam didn’t know what to do with that.

“I wish I could give you more, Sam, I truly do. And if you want me to stay, you know I will, though I believe I might be better use to you if I go back home for now. Let me call some of my people, meet with them. Psychics and empaths who specialize in missing folks – especially children. The little ones, they tend to be more open, easier to connect to.”

Sam took in every word Missouri said. Was grateful beyond measure for her coming, joining forces with them, knowing she’d come back at a single call, and for everything he knew she was returning home to do. Still, in that moment, all he could do was nod and squeeze her hand.

_**~ ~ ~** _

Spending the night before she headed back out in the morning, Missouri – with Donna and Garth’s help – made them all dinner at her insistence. Said the least she could do was make sure they all had a decent meal.  
Missouri managed to get Sam to eat half of his plate before he had to push it away, and later in the evening she insisted he drink the tea she made him – would help him sleep, and not a blessed thing in it would harm the baby.

Sam slept that night, if fitfully, plagued by grotesque nightmares. And in the morning when he woke, Missouri was gone. Almost felt like a dream she’d even been there, though the revelation she’d left was all too real.

[ ](http://imgbox.com/iF3Al5FE)

_**> >> Lebanon, Kansas <<<** _

It had been a week.

After that first horrific night, Kayla had come back in the morning as if everything was normal. Like they were all friends, like she _hadn’t_ abducted Dean and Jameson, left them bound and gagged in a cold, dank, lightless concrete prison all night. Nothing to eat or drink, shuffling their way in the pitch-black to a metal toilet. Dean curling his body around Jamie’s inside the sleeping bags he’d blindly zipped together, stroking his crying son’s head and humming around the ball gag as he soothed him to sleep.  
She’d set down a bag of food and a tray of drinks in front of them, just out of reach. Said she knew Dean was smart, figured he’d learned his lesson, but for him to nod for her to be sure. Fighting against his nature, he’d nodded, a demeaning, “Good boy.” and pat to the top of his head in recognition of his obedience. Instructing them not to speak until she’d left, she’d unlocked their gags. Pushed the food within reach and promised to be back later, the deranged bitch actually whistling as she’d left the room.  
Breakfast sandwiches and donuts, milk for Jameson and coffee just the way Dean preferred to take it (which was just fucking creepy), no matter how twisted their stomachs, and how badly their mouths hurt – sore from being gagged for so long – Dean made sure they ate every bite.  
He’d tried to explain what was happening (omitting her plans for them, obviously) in terms Jamie could understand. Had told him how important it was, for now, for both of them to do everything she said, and never talk back to her no matter what. His son was outspoken, said what he felt, and being a kid and all, still learning things like tact and being considerate – or thinking before you spoke and **not** taking after Dean’s propensity for snarky retorts – he had concerns Jamie might say something to set Kayla off. Had to do what he could to keep that from happening.

She was in a good mood again, twistedly cheerful. She hadn’t come down for breakfast, or lunch, and while, except for that second day, she’d been making them simple meals from basics in the mini-fridge and shelves of pantry items, today she pulled several large food containers from a gym bag and set them at Dean’s feet.  
“I sent your precious Sammy another special delivery today. You should have seen his face when the locks of your and Teddy’s hair fell out! And I was right there, rubbing his back and telling him to stay strong.” The sadistic bitch laughed maniacally, loud enough she almost didn’t catch the words coming out of Jameson’s mouth. Almost… 

“Don’t call me that,” Jameson had stated, not so much defiant though obviously upset.

Kayla stopped laughing, rushed forward looking like the lunatic she was – eyes wild and face contorted in a vile and enraged sneer – and crouched down in front of Jameson, shooting Dean a warning look. “Don’t you _fucking_ move a muscle or so much as twitch an eye, Dean.” She turned her focus back on Jameson. “ _Excuse_ me? _What_ did you just tell _me_ **not** to do?”

“Don’t call me Teddy,” Jameson repeated, beginning to tremble though he refused to cower. “Only people I like get to call me that.”

Kayla slapped him, hard enough to send Jameson reeling backwards, a bright trail of blood leaking from his nose.

Dean roared. “You fucking bitch! Lay a hand on my kid I’ll–“

“You’ll _what_ exactly, Dean? Because I _**did**_ just hit your miserable little brat, and what did you do? Nothing. Make some noise, throw some words around, you’re pathetically incapable of doing a single damn thing of consequence and you know it. Now, if maybe you’d spare me your impotent show of bravado and instead promise to work on teaching your whelp to respect his elders, I _might_ not gag you both again and turn out the lights before I leave. The food however…” Grabbing the closest container, Kayla opened it as she stood and took several steps backwards across the room, dumping the contents onto the floor well out of Dean and Jameson’s reach.

Dean watched as a grape from the fruit salad rolled across the floor. Looking over his shoulder to where Jameson had curled up into a ball like a little pill bug, Dean gingerly scooted backwards towards him, lifting Jamie onto his lap and holding him close. Thus far, Dean had refrained from asking her _why_ , hadn’t wanted to give her the satisfaction of not telling him. But holding his injured son, knowing the torment she was putting his other boy through… “Why, Kayla? Why are you doing this?”

She snorted, cold and contemptuous. “ _Now_ you ask? Took you long enough, Dean.”

“Didn’t bother asking ‘cause I didn’t figure you’d tell me. Would’ve already if you wanted to, and no point in it really. Don’t see you thinking it matters, me knowing. I’m not the one you want to hurt, just a way to get at the one you do.” 

Kayla nodded, turned, walked across the room where she turned again to face Dean as she perched on the edge of the desk where she stared at him for the longest time.

Enough time had passed Jamie had drifted off, Dean carding his fingers through the soft chestnut strands, so much like his dad’s. He’d given up on sadistic psycho bitch answering him, not that he’d ever really thought she would. Sitting there like she was, narrowed eyes peering at him, she was just toying with him. Probably go home and fap to it, the twisted cunt. She was obviously riding high on her power trip.

“Nine years ago.”

Dean actually jerked, so shocked to hear her finally speak – more so that it seemed like maybe… 

“It was a Crocuta.”

“ _Shit_ ,” Dean hissed under his breath. He was already putting it together. Her out to hurt his brother. Timing would’ve meant Sam minus a soul. And the only way to put a Crocuta down? No so much just looking like, even without the rest, this _was_ bad.

“My baby sister–“

Not even thinking, Dean interjected, “Kayla, I get it, I do, but you know how–”

“My parents,” Kayla growled, voice low and gravelly. “He knew, Dean. He had fucking time!” she yelled the last, harsh echo of it through the room. “Sam had scoped out our house hours earlier. He’d nearly run over Bonnie on her bike. Amazed he’d even bothered to stop, see if she was okay. She’d chattered on at Sam like he was her new best friend, and the whole damned time _**your fucking brother**_ knew he was going to use us all as **bait**! We were clueless, defenseless, and the great and revered Sam-fucking-Winchester waited! Waited until it had torn out my mom’s throat down in the kitchen. Waited until it had snapped my dad’s neck clean around. Waited until…until…” Kayla gasped, dropped forward at the waist, head bowed, and wailed like a wounded animal before she tossed her head back up, still hunched over, and stared at Dean with traumatized and vicious ferocity. “Waited until it had eaten a hole straight through Bonnie’s stomach and started on her insides.”

What the fuck did you say to that? He held Jamie closer – his son awake but thankfully still. What if Jamie had been the one– No! Couldn’t let himself imagine… As was, Dean had seen that kind of bodily carnage, worse. Fucking lived – died – through it himself. He’d been to Hell! Tone of his voice duly somber, Dean spoke lowly, “Oh hell, Kayla–“

“Don’t! Don’t you fucking _dare_!” she screamed. “You shut your damned mouth, Dean Winchester! My baby sister, not eight-years-old, she was _**ALIVE**_ through most of it! Even when she stopped screaming, her eyes kept blinking at me as I tried for all I was worth to get that…that… _thing_ off her!” Kayla paused, took a breath and swiped at her eyes. “Of course she was dead by the time Sam burst into the room. Pushed me aside, killed it. I blanked out then, shock I suppose. Next thing I knew I was on the front porch with a blanket around me. Could hear sirens, and your brother was fleeing the scene of his crime. I shouted at him, called him out on it, how he’d known, could’ve stopped it. He…he said he was sorry. _Sorry_. That there was no other way. And then he was gone.”

“Kayla,” Dean started, wary. When she didn’t tell him to stop, he went on, “You’re…you’re right. It didn’t have to go down like that. You know it now, all your training, and I know it. Hell, Sam would say he knows it. Your sister, Bonnie, we might not’ve been able to save her – and you know well as any of us that’s a cold hard truth when it comes to takin’ out a Crocuta. We can try our damnedest to stop them after the first bite, hope like hell it’s not a fatal one, but sometimes… And normally, Sam, he’d be one to do _everything_ in his power to keep everyone alive.”

Kayla laughed. Threw her head back and roared with a maniacal madness. “I was _there_ , Dean. I witnessed firsthand how your perfect, can-do-no-wrong, Sammy handled it! Yet you’re going to try to tell me–”

“He didn’t have a soul!” Dean shouted.

Kayla froze, blinked dumbly at Dean before she finally responded, “What the hell are you talking about? That’s not… You actually expect me to believe…”

“You’ve heard the talk. The stories. Sam going to Hell to trap Lucifer and stop the end of the world? True. That an angel brought him back? Also true. Part didn’t seem to make it into your gossip sessions? How he came back without a soul. Got left behind down in the cage, little plaything for Lucifer and Michael to torture instead of each other. Took awhile for any of us to figure it out, to fix it. Meant Sam was walking around up here soulless for over a year. And no soul equals no conscience. He was Robo-Sam. Programmed to Hunt, take out the monster, but no moral compass to guide him in the rights and wrongs of how – to consider the humans involved, and not be a monster himself.”

“You’re not making this up, are you?”

“No. No I’m not. Believe me, wish to hell it hadn’t gone down that way, for us, for you and your family, for a lot of people. But it did. And Sam, well… He doesn’t remember most of it. And what little he does… Not a day has gone by since he doesn’t try to make up for it. What he can recall, and all the horrible shit he can’t. Knows that doesn’t change he did it even if he can’t remember.” 

Nodding, Kayla stood up. “Well, he’s right about that at least…it doesn’t. So sure, maybe it sucks what happened to him, but it doesn’t change he killed my family. Might’ve been the Crocuta that did the dirty work, but their blood is still on his hands. The fact that he was _soulless_ , or whatever, when he did it? That’s not going to bring my baby sister or my parents back.”

“Kayla, come on! You’re seeking revenge against a person – a fucking _shell_ – that doesn’t exist! And torturing my brother, ki–“ Dean caught himself, ran his hand over Jamie’s head and went on, “doing what you are, what you’re planning on, to me and Jamie? Much as I wish there was a way, none of that is going to bring your family back either, Kayla. You’ve got to see that!”

Having walked over to the door, she opened it. “The sins of the father shall be visited upon the son…and brother,” she tacked on the last, scoffing. “Eat the rest of your food before it goes bad.” With that she was gone.

Any humanity or morality Dean had hoped to find in Kayla, any pity or mercy he could play on in plea for their release… There was none. And although he could feel for what had happened to her and her family, that didn’t justify her actions. Didn’t make it okay what she was doing to him or _his_ family. No, it was a glaring certainty now… While Kayla might technically be human, the sadistic lunatic that tragedy had turned her into was a straight up monster.  
Jameson beginning to cry softly, Dean hefted him up against his chest, held him and soothed him. Promised him it would be okay. And it would be. Dean wouldn’t be getting them free, but Sam would. They’d be worse for wear, need time to heal. And thanks to psycho bitch’s reveal, he and Sam would have to give their five-year-old the whole “monsters are real” talk. But yeah, if there was anything Dean was sure of, it was that his brother _would_ save them. Dean just had to keep caring for their son the best he could under the circumstances, try to buy them what time he was able. As revolting as it may be, take the unhinged sadist’s hard-on for keeping him and Jameson alive, simply to torment Sam, and use it to their advantage to do just that…keep them alive.  
Easing Jamie from his hold, Dean drew back, enough space between them to get a good look at his son’s face. His nose wasn’t broken, what minimal bleeding there’d been long dried. Nearly the entire left side of his face though, it was a mottled mess of dark and angry reds and purples. She’d pay for that, Dean thought, forcing a tight smile for his son. 

“Hurts, Pawpaw.”

“Know it does, sweetheart, and I’m so sorry I can’t make it better. That I couldn’t stop her in the first place.” Dean had to stop _himself_ right there, too easy for him to be swallowed up by guilt over what he _wasn’t_ able to do, when what he needed to focus on was what he _could_.

“Wanna go home.” Jamie sniffled.

“You and me both, kiddo. And we will, soon. But for right now, we’re going to play a game. You know we’re in the bunker, right? Where your daddy and I go to help people learn how to save folks from bad stuff, remember?” Fuckin’ warped-ass irony again.

Jamie nodded.

“Okay, so, we’re going to pretend it’s your Lego castle, and an evil sorceress has captured us and locked us up in a secret dungeon of the castle.”

“But then hows do we es’cape?”

“That there’s kinda the tricky part. We don’t. We’ve gotta wait for King Sammy to come and rescue us, and our job is to not make the wicked bitch angry until he does.”

“Swear jar, Pawpaw.”

“Sorry, sorry. A dollar owed when we get home.” Dean snorted. He’d owe a grand easy if Jamie could hear his thoughts. “So, here’s how we play the game. Every time she comes into the room and we don’t talk unless she asks us a question, it takes away some of her power.”

“But what if she asks’es us?”

“Well, as long as we use our most polite ‘yes, ma’am’ or ‘no, ma’am’, keep it short if we have to say more than that, then it still counts. You think you can do that, Jamie?”

Jamie nodded his head. “Yes, Pawpaw.”

“That’s my good boy.” Dean kissed the top of his head. “As long as we do that, and we keep doing what she tells us, it’ll make her weaker and weaker. She gets her power from hurting us, so we just have to do our best not to give her reason to. And that way, when King Sammy finds us, she won’t be strong enough to fight him.”

“Pawpaw? When Daddy comes, will he makes the bad lady go aways? So she can’ts hurts us anymores?”

Dean swallowed against the painful lump in his throat, pulled Jamie back in tight against him. “Yeah, baby, Daddy will.”


	4. Chapter 4

[ ](http://imgbox.com/xoFaowVU)

_**Chapter Four  
~  
THEN  
6 years ago  
Singer Salvage  
Sioux Falls, South Dakota** _

[ ](http://imgbox.com/r294SSLL)

“Hey, Bobby,” sheepish downward tilt to his head, Sam greeted the man waiting for him at the door. Sure Bobby knew him and Dean were mated, but kids, that was something else altogether.

A deep inhale he didn’t attempt to hide, and Bobby narrowed his eyes first at Sam, then past him to a smugly smiling Dean. “The first one’a you jackasses to call me grandpa gets a keister full’a buckshot.” With that, he pulled Sam in for a tight hug.

_**~ ~ ~** _

Knowing they were coming, if not why, Bobby had put on a pot of stew. Eyes closing as Sam savored the scent of fresh cornbread being pulled from the oven, he tried to keep the drool from running down his chin. Dean had been giving him shit for weeks already, nonstop ribbing about Sam “eating for two”. Sam tucking into his blow of aromatic meat and assorted vegetables like a man starved, Bobby had the good grace not to say anything, though he did keep taking glances at him – expression amused and fond.

“Might be kinda nice, havin’ a young’un around. Reckon they could even call me grandpa, or somethin’.”

Dean catching Sam’s smile, and smiling back, he nodded firmly. “Good. As it should be.”

“You know, I’d offer you boys up your old room, turn a spare one into a nursery, but I reckon this place – run down old house and salvage yard – ain’t much kid friendly.”

Like always, Bobby willing to put himself out for them, Sam’s heart warmed. He really was the father to them John had been incapable of being. “Thanks for the thought, Bobby, really, but just figured–“

“Stop you right there, Sam, if you knuckleheads are ‘bout to tell me you’re fixin’ on raising that young’un in the bunker.”

“Why the hell not?!”

Dean the one to say it, Sam had to wonder too, couldn’t help but feel his brother’s indignation. Of course, this was Bobby, Sam had to remind himself, and braced for whatever valid point he and Dean had apparently overlooked.

“Well, Dean,” Bobby started out voice level, slowly rising as he continued on, “near as I can tell, I’m pretty damn sure your brother ain’t givin’ birth to a litter of _**mole rats**_!”

Gulping hard – valid point momentarily missed – absurd or not, Sam stared down to where his barely-there-bump was hidden beneath two layers and eyed the area dubiously. Oh yeah, he was so having nightmares about this.

“I love the bunker, Bobby. ‘sides Baby and here, next closest thing Sam and I’ve ever had to a home,” Dean groused from where he’d slumped down in his chair, looking like a scolded five-year-old hating being called out for his mistake.

“Ain’t sayin’ get rid of it, just you two starting a family of your own, ain’t it maybe time to actually get y’rselves a real home?”

Bobby was right. If him and Dean were going to start a family, they needed to put down the roots they’d never had – and they needed to do it right. Or as right as being part of the Hunting world would permit.

From there, round and round they went. Hours spent figuring out the next steps in their lives. How to balance their Hunting life with their budding family life – how to keep themselves, and more importantly, their kids safe. So much they hadn’t thought of, considered, Sam soaking up all of the wisdom Bobby was pouring out, steadfastly taking notes in the journal he’d gotten just as soon as the pregnancy test stick had turned green.  
Decision made on what they’d do with the bunker, and every confidence Bobby would make sure they had a decent home to raise their family in, Sam found himself exhausted – the first trimester really kicking his ass – and grateful to Bobby for calling it a night.

_**~ ~ ~** _

While he and Dean had both fallen right off to sleep, Sam woke in the middle of the night, just as he had been for the prior few weeks. His stomach growling loud enough he was surprised it didn’t wake Dean, Sam was famished. Quietly making his way down to the kitchen, Sam pulled out the leftover stew, a carton of milk, and what looked and smelled like some leftover peach cobbler – dessert earlier had been caramel-apple pie, which he and Dean had polished off while Bobby’d guarded his solitary slice. Grabbing silverware and a glass, he sat down at the table and dug in.  
Sam flipped through the notes he’d made, his “Dean Knocked Me Up” journal – those _actual_ words scrawled on the inside cover in Dean’s handwriting (his brother was such as jerk) – having been left on the table. His mind wandering as he went over things, Sam found himself reflecting on the surrogate father Bobby had always been, really as long as he could remember. He’d probably been around four, the first time he actually recalled John dropping him and Dean off with the seemingly gruff man. Scared at first, Sam remembered how by the end of the first day he’d never wanted to leave. All their lives, Bobby’d treated them like the kids, teens, men him and Dean were – and not like soldiers. Bobby’d played ball with them, read to them before bed. Taught them how to fish and hunt, to cook a few staple meals. And he didn’t hold back telling their father just what he thought about him dragging Sam and Dean around like nomads, grooming them to fight in his vengeful war.  
No one else knew it, but Sam had kept in touch with Bobby the entire time he’d been away at Stanford. They’d even met up a couple of times, when Bobby’d made it out that way.  
Bobby, he’d always been there for them. Even through those years they’d all but lost touch, he and Dean had still known if need be, they could go to him, and Bobby’d be there.

Of course, as much as Dean had tried, it had been Bobby who’d gotten Sam through his change in Status. Had helped him come to terms with his newly Omega body – more or less – and eventually let Dean back in…figuratively, and, well, kinda literally. Sam couldn’t help but chuckle at that. He sombered quickly enough though, thinking back. Especially those first couple of years after Don’s “gift”… At the time, more like a fucking curse. Sam had felt betrayed by the changes in his body. Condemned, even demeaned, by his new Status. He’d just always been so much of an Alpha – his mind _still_ Alpha. Truthfully, he’d never thought less of Omegas, or Betas for that matter. But Omegas were inherently docile, nurturing, passive, and willfully submissive – in _every_ aspect of their lives – to the Alpha they’d consensually been claimed by. Their core biological objective was to be bred and breed. _None_ of that was who Sam was.  
Okay, so he’d bottomed for Dean since he was seventeen. And he’d paid the price he thought he’d had to for it, in _years_ of self-loathing and guilt. As a kid he’d known he was bi, attracted to both female and male Omegas and Betas. Yet Dean was the only one, ever – let alone another Alpha – he’d had the inclination to figuratively, and literally, “roll over” for. And no matter the heavy negative stigma surrounding Alpha-on-Alpha matings, even their father’s hateful, phobic views on it, whatever it was between him and his brother – a deeper connection, always there (“ _Soulmates_ ,” Ash had said) – none of it was enough to stop them from eventually giving in to the magnetic draw to one another.  
They hadn’t even discussed it, didn’t need to, the first time it happened. They’d been so caught up in the tidal wave of it, there was no thinking, simply giving in to their need for one another – in every way possible. How it had played out, it had been entirely organic. Even amidst the aggressive desperation of it, there’d been no fight for dominance. No matter how much Sam had bucked against Dean – and their father’s authority – for his independence, when it came to sex between them, nothing felt more right than for Sam to submit to Dean’s dominance. Even with the guilt that came after, hating himself for wanting it in the first place. Even when he’d run away, tried to escape it, convince himself he wanted “normal” and found it in a feisty little Omega with just enough similarities to Dean to make it hurt. Even when he realized he really did love Jess, and how a life with her could be good… It was never truly what he wanted. He could never quite make himself fit into the life he was desperately trying to carve out for himself, the way he so perfectly and effortlessly fit with Dean.

Fast-forward how many ever years (a decade, maybe?), when Don had cursed Sam, and once again they hadn’t even discussed it. Dean had simply finished packing up their things and helped him to the car – Sam barely half-coherent and body hurting with what was happening to him – and put them on the road headed towards Bobby’s.

Dean had rambled, nervous, scared. Sam hadn’t heard a word of it, not really, was all just noise. Had only uttered a single word himself, a clipped, “Don’t.” when Dean had tried to touch him.  
Sam had been well aware what an unsuppressed Omega in heat did to an Alpha. Had been impossible not to notice his brother’s visceral reaction… The clench of Dean’s jaw, those building beads of sweat along his upper lip and at the nape of his neck. Fists clenched white knuckled around the Impala’s steering wheel as his foot had pressed down harder on the gas pedal. Had only released his grip long enough to adjust his painfully constructed cock, no need for discretion, they’d both known how it was affecting him. How hard it must’ve been for Dean to breathe in that scent and not pull over and take Sam like the bitch he’d been turned into.  
By the time they’d gotten to Bobby’s he’d made the decision, what he felt he had to do. He’d told himself it would only be until they could break the curse, revert his body back to its rightful Status. Deep down, Sam had known better. And when it’d been confirmed, there was no undoing the change, it had only cemented his decision.   
Sam’d had enough of an understanding of suppressants to realize how they worked was pretty much what it said on the tin: they suppressed. Indiscriminately. Sure they’d keep him from going into heat, and they’d mask his scent. They’d also weaken Sam even more than turning Omega would. Dull his senses, his responses and focus. As a Hunter, none of those were things Sam could afford to lose. No, Sam had decided he’d simply have to self-quarantine during his heats…and Bobby’s panic room had been the perfect place to do it. And if there’d been some heavy self-loathing in that, yet another thing to feel ashamed over, well didn’t that just go fucking figure.

Those first couple days, Bobby had let him be. Had insisted Dean do the same. That fifth day though, two days after Dean had talked to Don, Bobby’d come down with a tray for Sam, flung open the door, and marched it right into the room – head high, shoulders back, not so much as a twitch of his eye or change in his breathing to show Sam’s scent was affecting him. Tray placed on the desk with an aggressive _thunk_ , Bobby’d turned around and faced Sam with all the authoritative parental sternness he could muster.

“Iff’in you’re hell bent on punishing yourself for somethin’ entirely not your fault,” he’d said, “then go on right ahead. But best you be clear about a few things, boy. These here changes your body is set on goin’ through, this new Status you’re going to have to live with? Not _none_ of it makes a damn lick of difference in who you are. You are still Sam Winchester. Just as strong, smart, same damned bullheaded fool pain in my ass, who I love like you are my own son, and don’t you ever forget that.”

Bobby’d mostly backed off after that. Mostly. Would still give Sam one solid fatherly talking to during each eight-day stay. Never cruel or angry, though frustrated yes. Had insisted he wasn’t fixing up the panic room, refusing to let Sam – or Dean – do it either. His, “You’re welcome to it, Sam, but this ain’t no damned pity retreat. Let you do what you feel you have to workin’ your way through things, but not makin’ ya comfortable doing it. Not down here, like this.” it had been Bobby’s way of “tough love”.

That year passing, four times Sam had banished himself to the panic room, and that fifth time Bobby had followed Sam right down. Having stood in the doorway, arms crossed, he’d given Sam one of the biggest shocks of his life. Had told him enough was enough, and it was high time for Sam to let Dean _help_ him. Sam had simply stood there doing his best impression of a black moor goldfish that’d jumped its bowl and landed on the table – wide-eyed and slack-jawed, gasping for breath – while he’d struggled to find words to reply. Sam hadn’t needed to. Bobby, he’d had plenty to say.

“You thought I didn’t know? Figure me for a damn idjit, boy? Even without the way your daddy raised you two, was always somethin’ different between you boys, somethin’ right special. You and your brother been that to each other long time now, reckon with this change, you need him that way even more, and it’s high time you turned around whatever twisted notions you got about this and start lettin’ Dean be there for ya. Sides, I can’t take one more night of his pitiful hangdog expression. Mopin’ around not knowin’ what to do with his sorry fool self. All this pointless suffering ain’t doing anyone any good, plus it’s puttin’ a dent in my beauty sleep.”

Bobby’d gone on to tell him that he understood Sam not wanting to take suppressants, and what with how unclaimed Omegas in heat tended to affect some knotheads, he was still more than welcome to ride out his heats there – upstairs, with his brother helping him through it. Had added that for whatever reason it was, the scent didn’t bother him none, and he’d invest in a box of ear plugs.  
Of course, the ear plugs hadn’t been necessary all that often, what with Dean claiming him the next day, and not too long after Sam allowing them to knot – letting his new nature take its course.

Shoveling in the last bite of peach cobbler, then washing it down with a swig of milk, Sam let his hand settle on the small swell of his stomach. For whatever reason him and his brother hadn’t ever gotten around to calling Bobby by the title he was to them, the little one inside him, and any others that might come along, they’d know Bobby as their grandfather and refer to the man as such – and Sam knew Bobby wouldn’t want it any other way.

[ ](http://imgbox.com/DmBZvcEg)

_**NOW  
Red Cloud, Nebraska** _

They were coming up on four weeks since Dean and Jameson had been taken. Few facts and no solid leads, all they really had were mounting suspicions. Sam, along with those few in his implicitly trusted circle, spending countless hours coming up with the most likely scenarios of what they were dealing with – and none of it seemed to get them any closer to finding his brother and son.

After the first package had been delivered, Charlie had hacked into the courier company records – the information on the sender leading to a fake identity. All they could be sure of was it had been dropped off at an office in Kearney, Nebraska – the steep fee paid for same-day delivery service. That had only muddled things. Local drop-off, but Boulder newspaper. Was the abductor just fucking with them? Was there more than one person? With what Missouri had told them two days later, that all but cemented the abductor was local. The next package confirmed it. Having come out of Grand Island, another grotesque manipulated image – in the center of the sickening photoshopped Hellscape, Jamie on Dean’s lap, the newspaper, again with the previous day’s date, placed at Dean’s feet…from Albuquerque, New Mexico. They were most definitely being fucked with.  
After Missouri had left, and the second package had arrived, Sam, Bobby, Charlie and Eileen, Rufus, Garth, and Jody and Donna had all gathered at the farm to go over what little they had. It’d been a quick consensus reached. Dean and Jameson were being held nearby. The abductor human, female. With the nature of the photos, two things had been fairly evident: it wasn’t about a ransom, and it wasn’t about Dean and Jamie. Whoever the abductor was, they were out for Sam. It had made Sam sick to suggest it, even worse was no one being able to disagree, that it was most likely someone Sam had wronged, grievously so. Trying to come up with anyone Sam could think of, someone who’d go to such lengths to get back at him, he and Bobby had both kept coming back to the same point in time: the year he was topside without a soul.  
Sam had barely been able to stand the thought of it – still couldn’t. Something he’d done – soulless or not, no matter how anyone tried to make excuses for it – yet couldn’t even fucking remember, had gotten his family taken by some unknown lunatic. It was nearly too much.

The weeks, days, hours, excruciating minutes passing by. The packages steadily trickling in every few days, each one a depraved taunt, like a knife to Sam’s gut. The guilt eating at him, Sam _certain_ his brother, his son, were paying for an unrecalled sin he’d committed. What little he was able to eat or sleep – Sam gaunt, practically all belly with the weight he’d lost, ever present black circles under his eyes – was all at Bobby’s resilient urging, ever reminding him what – _who_ – he had to keep his strength up for. All of that on top of the sheer exhaustion of being in his final trimester, due date fast approaching, the thought of giving birth to their daughter while Dean and their son were… Something had to give, and Sam prayed to whatever benevolence that might be listening that it wasn’t him.

[ ](http://imgbox.com/jeW40s3A)

_**> >> ~ S&D ~ <<<** _

Sam woke with a groan, hand over his middle where his daughter was kicking a persistent rhythm to his insides, like an alarm clock going off that he hadn’t set. “Alright, okay, I’m up,” Sam grumbled, slowly – and none too gracefully – getting out of bed. Stretching, and putting on his slippers, he padded down the stairs, in search of Bobby.   
With Sam having been asleep, that meant somewhere in the old house, Bobby was awake. Had been the only way Bobby could get Sam to agree to drink the tea Missouri had left, the only way he’d felt anywhere near secure enough to get a few precious hours of sleep, if he knew Bobby was remaining vigilant. Hadn’t helped much at first, not with the constant nightmares. Of course, Bobby had taken care of that too. Same as he kept on in the battle against Sam’s lack of appetite. From making sure the foods Sam could typically stomach were stockpiled at both the farm and bunker, to randomly bringing him bowls of yogurt, applesauce, or fresh fruit. In the mornings, he’d make him scrambled eggs – oh-so-close to the way Dean made them, though he just couldn’t get the pancakes quite right. And every night, Bobby made sure a grilled salami and Gouda on marbled rye was put on a plate, along with thick tomato slices covered in peanut butter, and three mango-habanero pickle slices. Sam could usually manage to eat at least half – as well as down the accompanying quart of apple juice. The truth it had come to, the little Sam managed to eat was only because Bobby had taken it upon himself to make sure he was fed.  
Shuffling through the downstairs, sure enough, Sam found Bobby in the dining room, the table overtaken by papers and files, books and laptops, and all things related to the ongoing search. 

Bobby looked up, red-eyed and weary. “Well damn, son, was really hopin’ it’d do the trick.”

“Oh, no, me being up is all her doing,” Sam poked an accusing finger against the side of his bump, “the anti-dream charm, that worked like a, well, charm. Thanks, Bobby.”

“Don’t mention it, just glad to hear it worked.”

“She’ll have me up for awhile, you should go upstairs and get some sleep.”

“You sure, son? I can–”

“Go. I’ll be fine, just going to get her a snack. Read over that book on tracking spells Don sent. He said he didn’t think there was much he could do we couldn’t, but as soon as he gets back from his trip he’ll still come and try if we want him to.”

Having stood, and yawned, Bobby nodded as he passed Sam, patted him on the shoulder. “Nice of him to make the offer ‘least. Never could make up my mind over that one, whether he was owin’ you, or the other way around.”

Sam smiled, recalled how he and Dean’d had the same conundrum for awhile. “After Jamie was born, Dean and I sent him a fruit basket.”

Bobby barked out a laugh, shook his head and smiled. “ ‘spect I feel the same way ‘bout it too.”

“Get some sleep, Bobby.”

“You know where I’ll be.”

And Sam did, and there weren’t words – or fruit baskets – to express how grateful he was, or what that meant to him.  
Bobby heading upstairs, Sam continued on to the kitchen…and to what his daughter was after. While he didn’t crave it every night, Bobby made sure it was still always there. Opening the fridge, he took out the bratwurst and cream cheese sandwich, along with the glass of buttermilk. Other than Bobby, his daughter was the only other one not above strong-arming Sam into eating. He envisioned soccer balls and karate in his future, maybe the Rockettes, because his girl sure as hell could kick.   
A quick detour into the downstairs bathroom, and Sam took his late-night snack, along with the old spell book, and settled on the lounger end of the sectional in the family room.

Sam wasn’t there ten minutes before Charlie stumbled in to join him – fiery hair sleep mussed and droopy eyelids, she was obviously barely awake. Without a word, she dropped down next to Sam and snuggled in beside him, head close to his belly. Voice thick with sleep, she began to softly sing… 

“ _Sister Christian oh the time has come, and you know that you’re the only one to say, okay_ …”

Sam set the book aside, let a comforting hand settle against Charlie’s back, he knew she missed them too. He closed his eyes, thought of the countless times he’d heard Dean sing it: washing dishes, working on the car, helping Sam in the vegetable gardens…up pacing with a colicky Jamie. Silently, Sam went ahead and let the tears fall.  
When he woke, the sun was just rising – Charlie still by his side, and the both of them covered with throw blankets – the sounds of Garth making breakfast coming from the kitchen. Another day and night gone without his brother and son, nothing different from all the other agonizing ones that had passed, nothing significant, yet somehow Sam was certain… that something he’d known that had to give, whatever it was, it was about to. 

[ ](http://imgbox.com/jeW40s3A)

_**> >> ~ S&D ~ <<<** _

Missouri called. Told Sam she was bringing someone who could possibly help, but he would need to touch something of Jameson’s. And yes, she trusted Micha without question. They’d leave at sunup the next day, be to the farm by mid-morning.

_**~ ~ ~** _

Donna and Garth up just after sunrise making a huge breakfast for the entrusted group of them that would be gathering at the farm, Sam had been up even before them…pacing. At least that was when pure exhaustion, and the near constant ache in his lower back, didn’t force him to sit and rest.  
As soon as he heard Missouri’s car coming up the drive, hope fueled adrenaline had Sam rushing from the kitchen table to the front door and throwing it open wide.

“Hello, Sam,” Missouri greeted, her voice soft and motherly, though somber. She reached out, taking one of Sam’s hands between hers as she stepped into the house. “I know you’re anxious, honey, so we’ll save the introductions for later. First though, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask everyone here to join me in the living room before we get started. While I can’t say exactly why, I got the most uneasy feeling on the drive here. I know these fine people are your friends, Sam, the people you trust. Some of them I do as well. Still, if you’ll indulge me, I think it’s important.”

Unsure where she was going with what she was not yet clearly asking, Sam still nodded his head readily. “Anything you need, Missouri.”

“Thank you, Sam.” Missouri patted his hand, still held between hers, and led him over to an empty armchair to sit – no doubt not even needing to read Sam’s thoughts as to simply look at him to know what kind of shape he was in. “Now, is this everyone?” She looked around the room, as did everyone in the room, all of them nodding when they were certain it was. “Then I’ll do this as quickly as I can. I need to read you all. I promise not to pry into your personal thoughts and memories, and anything I might pick up I surely won’t judge. I think you all have an idea of what I’m looking for, which is where my focus will be. And as for you, Bobby Singer,” Missouri turned to the man, “I know better than to even try reading you. Of course I also know I’d trust you with my life.” Turning back to the group as a whole, she went on, “Some folks, they shield. Protective barriers they put up. Whether placed there on purpose or not, that I can’t usually say. Some naturally shield, not even aware they’re doing it, or how to take it down.”

“What she’s tellin’ ya is,” Bobby interjected, “iff’in she can’t read ya, don’t take it personal none, yet for time being’ make y’rself scarce. We can all sing _Kumbaya_ and fix any hurt feelin’s _after_ this is all over, and we have my boy and grandson back safe and sound.”

With that, one by one in turn, Missouri took the hand of every person gathered in the room. Jody, then Garth. Rufus she gave the stink-eye after taking his, the man giving an annoyed grunt before closing his eyes, Missouri then nodding and patting his hand. Charlie and Eileen, the later Missouri giving a tender pat to her cheek. Finally taking Donna’s, Missouri closed her eyes, frowning, the entire room going on guard before she opened her eyes and spoke, “Child, I’m not here to judge you. But I do need to make sure my boys are safe.” Still holding Donna’s hand, a moment later she laughed softly, squeezing the hand in hers. “Oh, girl, your secret’s safe with me.”  
Looking around the room, Missouri smiled genially. “Thank you, everyone. Much as I expected, Sam and Dean, they have some kind and loyal friends in their lives.” Finally, she turned her focus back to Sam – her friend who’d stood aside while she’d read everyone, moving in to join them. “Sam, honey, this is a dear and trusted friend of mine, Micha. He’s a clairvoyant, and mostly uses touch. His gift is specific to children. He was abroad, helping another couple find their missing little girl, or I’d have brought him here sooner. Just the moment I knew he was back, I reached out and told him about your situation. I was sure he would want to do his best to help.”

Sam simply nodded, was too afraid to hope – too desperate to not.

“Hello, Sam, it’s nice to meet you. I’m so sorry for what you’re going through. While I can’t make any promises, I’ll try my best. I don’t want to keep you waiting any longer, so if you have something of his, of Jameson’s?”

“Yeah, I uh… Missouri said you’d need something. I wasn’t sure if one thing might be better than another, so I can take you to his room?” Not waiting, Sam turned and led Micha upstairs – Missouri and Bobby trailing behind, while everyone else waited.

“Something personal, his favorite toy, shirt. Anything that is special to him.” Micha offered as they reached the second floor – Sam appreciating the man’s use of the word “is”, rather than “was”.

Opening the door to Jamie’s bedroom, Sam stepped inside. He hadn’t gone into it since… Just hadn’t been able to. In there now…it smelled like his son. Swallowing against the lump in his throat, Sam walked across the room to the “big boy bed” he and Dean had only recently switched him to. Knowing what he was looking for wasn’t downstairs, and Jamie wouldn’t’ve taken it with on the trip into town, Sam found the baby quilt right where he’d expected to. “This…this is his,” Sam said, picking it up and pressing it to his face, inhaling deep and willing himself not to fall apart. Jamie, Dean, his unborn daughter, they all needed him. “He’s had it since the day he was born. He…Jamie’s never been able to sleep without it.”

The blanket held out to him, with great care Micha took it into his hands and closed his eyes. An excruciating minute passing, as though he’d been holding his breath Micha exhaled with a heavy _whoosh_ of air. “He’s alive. Your son is alive, Sam, and…and he’s with his father. Jameson, he’s hurt, but not terribly,” Micha rushed to add. “Mostly he’s confused. Scared, even though he knows Daddy’s coming.”

Sam couldn’t contain it any longer, a mournful, broken sound erupting from deep within him. Missouri reached out and took his hand, held it fast in her own.

“He’s mad too. So much anger for a little boy. He…he doesn’t understand.” Micha gripped the blanket tighter, stared at it as if he could see right through to somewhere else, maybe… “She’s cloaked. Using some powerful, old, magics that one, though they’re not hers, only taken and used without respect, to shield her, but if I could just… Micha slammed his eyes closed tight, frowned and shook his head as he mumbled lowly, “He…he doesn’t want her to call him Teddy anymore.”

“ _Balls_!” Bobby muttered, the slap-in-the-face realization of what they all now knew.

“She’s bad,” Micha went on. “Hurt him and his pawpaw. Says mean things about his daddy and wants him to die. Wants his baby sister in Daddy’s tummy to die. She’s not his friend anymore.” Fingers unclenching the blanket as though they were released springs, Micha fell to his knees on the floor.

Sam stared at the man, some distant voice in his head telling him he should be concerned, but it was far off behind the building roar of fire and stench of death, the coppery taste of betrayal and righteous fury flooding his mouth. The human piece of shit who’d taken his world… Jameson _knew_ her.  
All of the anger rising, rising, to a violent and bloody crescendo and yet Sam’s body… 

Bobby was in front of Sam in an instant, took hold of him by the shoulders and forced him upright from crumpling in on himself. “You listen to me, boy! Your brother and your son? They are **alive**! You hear me, Sam! They are alive, and wherever they are, they’re depending on you to find them. And iff’in I know one thing about your brother, it’s his faith in you, son. All you two’ve been through, ‘specially these last years, no doubt in my mind he’s holdin’ out for you to come get him and your boy.” Searching Sam’s eyes, making sure he heard, comprehended, Bobby pulled him in close as he could, pregnancy belly between them, and embraced him with a fierce tightness.

Sam…clung back.

[ ](http://imgbox.com/iF3Al5FE)

_**> >> Lebanon, Kansas <<<** _

The alert for a mandatory meeting was put out. Bobby informed everyone they were having to go on the suspicion the person who’d taken Dean and Jameson was someone they knew. That a good friend of theirs was going to read them all. He made it clear, so no one started jumping to conclusions or went pointing fingers, how not everyone could be read. How it didn’t necessarily mean it was because they were hiding something they shouldn’t be. Most everyone had knowledge of how being read worked. Took the unfortunate necessity in stride – those less knowledgeable still taking their cues from the rest and cooperating fully. For the most part, they all seemed more concerned for Dean and Jameson than for themselves – even those who couldn’t be read.   
Regardless if Missouri had given them the all clear, Sam and his trusted few still interrogated anyone who Jameson might’ve even _remotely_ considered a “friend”. Next they did the same to anyone who couldn’t be read, before dismissing them until further notice. If they were living in the bunker, they’d need to find other accommodations for the time being. Cesar and Jesse, Kayla, and a few others who hadn’t been able to make it, were told to check in the moment they got back.   
The bunker was also torn apart. It seemed impossible to think Dean and Jameson were being held under their noses like that, still it was searched from top to bottom – including the empty warehouse above and the sub-basements below.  
All of it had to be done, yet Sam realized if it _was_ one of their own, they’d just tipped her off they were on to her. Whatever warped game she was playing by having kept Dean and Jameson alive thus far – in all likelihood a cruel and calculated way to make Sam suffer, make him pay for whatever unrecallable wrong he’d committed – Sam could very well have just pushed her into calling ‘Game Over’.

[ ](http://imgbox.com/jeW40s3A)

_**> >> ~ S&D ~ <<<** _

“Go, Garth!” Sam insisted…again.

“Bobby’ll kill me if I leave you here alone,” Garth pleaded, yet another excuse to not go.

“And I’ll kill you if you don’t!” Sam yelled, immediately settling back into the library chair with a sigh. “The Post Office in Red Cloud closes in forty minutes, and this package _has_ to go out overnight delivery to Kegan and Claudia.”

“The case in Baton Rouge, yeah. But why–“

“Can’t you just go down into Lebanon? _Because_ , Garth, the boxes in Red Cloud haven’t been checked in two days, and on the off chance… Look, Bobby and Rufus are already on their way back from Hastings, shouldn’t even be an hour before they get here.”

“But what if–“

“The bunker is empty. Everyone else is at _least_ an hour out. Couldn’t beat Bobby and Rufus back here to start something if they wanted to. And, just to clear up any confusion, I’m not _completely_ fucking helpless here.”

“Aw, come on, Sam, I didn’t mean…”

“Yeah, yeah, just go, Garth. Micha talking about… _her_ , being ‘cloaked’, some books I want to research, possibly some counter spells we can try.”

“Alright, but at least maybe eat something? There’s left over spare ribs in the fridge. Maybe take a nap.”

“Yes, mom,” Sam snarked, grumpy, achy, and pissed-the-fuck-off and scared as hell. He wasn’t lying about the research, but Sam really just needed to be alone for awhile.

Garth hung his head. “I just care, Sam.”

The guy looking like a kicked puppy, Sam duly felt like shit. “I know, man, I’m sorry. You know I’m just…”

Nodding, Garth rushed forward and bent over to give Sam an awkwardly angled hug where he sat. “I’ll only be fifteen minutes away. Call, you need anything.”

“Will do.” Sam _still_ had to make a physical shooing motion with his hands to get the guy to turn and go.  
Long enough for Garth to _finally_ leave the bunker, and Sam was alone. Spending a couple minutes taking in the silence, Sam pushed up from his chair when his thoughts inevitably invaded the peace. He’d already been through all the books on the main floor. Again, for some reason what Micha had said about old magics used for shielding… Sam knew he’d seen something on that. Maybe in one of the libraries in the sub-basements? It was a definite possibility, and what had seemed to become the motto of ‘ _Hunter’s Hogwarts_ ’ ( _dammit_ he missed his brother!) over the last weeks was: no lead too small. Walking into the kitchen, Sam knew Garth – everyone – was right: he needed to eat. Looking in the fridge, he instead grabbed the orange juice. Later, he’d eat later. Guzzling the juice right from the carton – more exhaustion than lack of consideration, besides, he planned to drink it all – double checking he had his cell phone and charger, his Taurus tucked into the back of his jeans, Sam took the rest of the juice and headed for the bedroom where the secret panel leading to the sub-basements was.  
Just outside the door, Sam’s phone rang, his ringtone for Bobby echoing through the corridor. “Hey, Bobby,” Sam answered.

“What’s this ‘bout you being left on your own in the bunker?”

“Garth’s a worry wart. And a tattle-tale. I’m fine, Bobby. Not entirely helpless you know. And you’re what? An hour out?”

“Know you ain’t helpless, son, just feel a mite safer with all of us havin’ someone trusted at our backs right now. ‘specially the one with some lunatic Hell-bitch gunning for him.”

Sam sighed.

“Iff’in Rufus stops driving like a little ol’ church lady, we’ll be there in under an hour, just keep safe.”

Sam’s cell pone started beeping. “Shit, my phones dying.”

“Dammit, Sam!”

“I know, I know. It’s not a big deal, going to charge it right– Bobby? Bobby? Shit.” Sam stared at the blank screen on his phone, then shoved it into his pocket. “Way to go, Sam,” he chastised himself, no one around to hear him. “Great time to let your phone die.” Well, he’d charge it soon enough.  
Taking another swig of juice, Sam reached for the door handle…and practically tumbled into the room, the door suddenly opening from the other side.

“Sam!”

“Kayla!” Sam startled, juice spewing out of his mouth. Stopping short of blurting out, “ _What the hell_?!” Sam kept the accusing exclamation in his head. She wasn’t supposed to be in the bunker. She wasn’t even supposed to be back!

Bent over at the waist, Kayla exhaled loudly. “Holy _shit_ you scared me!”

“Uh, yeah. Kinda the same.” This wasn’t right. Sam forced himself to laugh, friendly, light. “Wasn’t expecting you back until tonight.”

“I know. Drove straight through last night though, instead of getting a motel. Bunker was empty when I got here, figured I’d crash for a few hours before I called.” Kayla rolled her eyes. “Remembered I’d left my favorite earbuds down in sub-basement three before I left, wanted to run down and grab them while I was thinking of it.” Not missing a beat, she pulled the red earbuds from her jacket pocket and held them up with a smile.

“Well it’s good to have you back.” If for no other reason than for Missouri to read her, Sam thought.

“Good to be back, just wish the lead had panned out. Wish…” She let her eyes fall downcast, along with her shrugging shoulders.

“I know. Me too.” Sam smiled, tight, but it was appropriate, his mounting suspicion not given away. Suddenly, Kayla was hugging him. Awkward, brief, but just long enough… It was incredibly faint. If Jameson wasn’t his, Sam likely wouldn’t’ve even caught it…the scent of his son. Right there, in his arms for a fleeting moment, was the person who’d taken Dean and Jamie. The person who was supposed to be a friend, all the while plotting against him and becoming his tormentor. The person who’d watched after Jamie, only to stand by and watch Sam fall apart at her doing. The person who’d eluded them for weeks, at the same time having been right there beside them the entire time. And while Sam wasn’t sure how the hell they’d missed it when they’d searched the bunker, he knew they had overlooked something crucial… Somewhere in the sub-basements, she was holding his son and brother.

Kayla shoved her hands in her pockets, smiled shyly. “So, is everyone back? I know you wanted me to meet with that friend of yours. Missouri, right?”

“Yeah, Missouri. She’s back at the farm. Maybe you could come out for dinner tonight?” Sam deliberately ignored the other question, hoped she wouldn’t press and call him on it. Better she think someone else might be roaming the bunker besides them, though he didn’t want to risk her catching him in a blatant lie if he could avoid it.

“Huh, okay, yeah, dinner. As for right now though, if you don’t mind me being nosy, can I ask where you and your juice were headed? Not down to the sub-basements I hope. Not to be mean, Sam, but you look like a light breeze could knock you over.”

“No, I get it. Just having a hard time sleeping.” A split-second before he spoke, Sam calculated every word, he couldn’t screw this up. “Anyway, I actually was. Some books I wanted to take a look at.”

Kayla immediately began to shake her head, though her demeanor remained deceptively unguarded. “Nope, no can do, Sam. No way I’m letting you go down those treacherous stairs in your condition. You just tell me what books you want, and I’ll go down and bring them back up for you.”

“Maybe you could just go down with me, keep me from falling?” Digging down deep, Sam gave her the ‘puppy eyes’, even though it made his stomach roll.

She shook her head again. “Sam, you’re exhausted. Tell me which books, then go lie down in your old room. I’ll bring them to you once I find them.”

It took everything Sam had in him not to physically recoil from the hand Kayla reached out and put on his arm.

“I mean it, Sam. I know you want to find Dean and Teddy, but you’ve got to take care of yourself. After all, you also have your daughter to worry about.”

Sam instinctively cradled his belly, taking Kayla’s words as the warning in the guise of caring they were meant to be. He had to play everything just right, too much was at stake. Sam forced himself to nod, feigned solemn agreement. “I thought I’d seen some books on scrying and tracking down there. Stuff I’d never heard of before. The library in sub-basement two. If I remember right, far left bookcase, third shelf down.”

“I think I noticed those too. I’ll see what I can find.”

“Thanks, Kayla.” Sam swallowed against the bile rising in his throat.

“Don’t mention it. Now go rest!” Shooing him off with the motion of her hands, waiting for Sam to go out into the corridor, Kayla turned and headed back down into the sub-basements.

Merely a few steps down the corridor from the room, Sam pressed his back up against the wall, listened as the sound of Kayla’s footsteps tapered off. _Shit-shit-_ _ **dammit**_! Sam’s mind raced, breaths rapid and heart beating fast enough to feel the throb of his pulse jack-rabbiting in his chest and pulse points. He dug into his pocket for his cellphone, looking at it as if it had magically recharged in the last few minutes. He couldn’t wait for it to recharge – on the fritz lately, he also couldn’t call or text while connected to the lightning cable. There was no one else in the bunker to call out for. He didn’t have _time_ to get to a landline in the bunker, he… Sam didn’t have time, period.  
Whether Kayla realized Sam was already on to her or not, she had to know it was only a matter of time now, limited at that. At this very moment she could be…   
“Fuck it!” Drawing his gun, Sam hurried back into the room, through the still open panel, and down into the dark and dank bowels of the bunker. Beyond having no idea what he was possibly walking into, he realized the disadvantage he was at. Much as Sam hated it, he was completely run down. It was his heavily pregnant Omega body – ill affected by stress and fear and constantly pushing himself, exhausted from lack of sleep and proper nourishment – against a smart, strong, cunning, diabolical psychopath Alpha who _they’d_ trained. She had her own keen instincts and abilities that two years of training with them had only acutely amplified. There was no way Sam was getting the drop on her without waiting, taking time his gut told him he didn’t have. And if he had to fight her in his current state… No, he could only hope he’d startle her enough to get a shot off.  
Sub-basement one dark, he’d continued on to the next, hoping the lit corridor he found wasn’t simply to throw him off. He took it until he reached a slightly ajar door, waiting, listening, rushing inside with his gun raised and ready. Empty. But there, along the back wall, yet another damned hidden door was revealed. Cautiously approaching, Sam again listened. Nothing. Still, this was it, he could feel it, Dean and Jameson were behind the door.  
Gun poised, Sam kicked out against it. Rather than busting free from the frame, the door simply swung inward – raucous, maniacal laughter a disturbing greeting from inside the room. 

“Hi ya, Sam, nice of you to join us. Not exactly how I planned for everything to play out, but this works too.” Kayla was squatting next to where she had Jameson bound and gagged, sitting on an old mattress on the concrete floor – the point of her serrated Bowie knife at his throat, small trickle of blood trailing down.

Sam took a brief moment to assess the situation. It wasn't good. However, Dean and Jameson were still alive, appeared relatively unharmed. That alone gave Sam a burst of determination to fight like hell to keep them that way.

“Now drop the gun and kick it over,” Kayla demanded, “or I gut him like Bambi right here in front of you. I’m giving you a choice here, Sam. Obey, and I’ll tell you what’s been eating at you for weeks, what exactly you did to deserve all of this. I might even let your little whelp live. Satisfy myself with killing baby daddy over there,” she nodded towards Dean, across the room, also bound and gagged – struggling for all he was worth, “then drive this knife straight into that whore in your belly, feel her twitching and writhing inside you as you both die. Yeah, I kinda like that idea. And I’ll be gone before anyone has a chance to make it back. But don’t worry, I’ll leave a trail of blood leading them to poor traumatized Teddy here.”

“They’ll find you. Never stop tracking you down.”

“Maybe.” Kayla shrugged, completely unphased. “Maybe not. You know well as I do, unassuming girl like me, all of the skills I’ve learned from the legendary brothers Winchester? I could become anyone, go anywhere. But, you know, your choice, Sam. You can just shoot me – you and your precious Dean and your new little bitch, all living unhappily ever after – but I’ll be taking your firstborn brat with me if you do.”

Neither was an option. Ripping the deranged, sadistic bitch apart with his bare hands? That had possibilities. Still, Sam dropped the gun and kicked it over.  
Unarmed, his vulnerable condition, Sam had no idea if he could take her on. But watching her slowly stalk towards him – a feral, cocky smile on her face, obviously confident in her assumption Sam was too weak to fight her, not even bothering to pick up the gun and turn it on him… That was her second mistake.

“The great and powerful Hunter, Sam Winchester, too weak and pathetic to save his family. I can’t tell you the joy it gave me, watching you whither away these last few weeks. Such a bonus, made it worth keeping up the ruse longer than I’d planned.” Her strides quickened, voice rose. “This is for my family, my baby sister, you murdering piece of shit!” Kayla lunged.

To her complete shock, Sam blocked her attack, one arm thrown up while the other came from below with a hit to her middle.

Several swift steps backwards, Kayla caught her breath, obviously taking a brief moment to regroup. “Huh. Okay then. You know as well as I do this isn’t a fair fight, Sam. But you want to give it a go? Yeah, we can do that. It’ll be my pleasure to beat you down even further, like the worthless bitch you are, while your brother and son watch. Let’s do this.”

It was just as Sam had known, as his opponent well knew: he couldn’t take her. She was simply toying with him. Setting aside her knife, avoiding his middle and taking the hits she allowed Sam to get in. But Sam trying to defeat a skilled fighter driven by a need for vengeance, while simultaneously attempting to defend the daughter still inside of him from that same lunatic in the process… It was a losing battle.  
Sam managed to get in a series of decent blows. A kick to the back of her left knee, followed by a one-two/right-left to her ribs – the jabs jarring loose a ring of keys from her jacket.

Wheezing, she still managed to cackle as the keys jangled against the floor. “Too bad you won’t get a chance to use them, you miserable fuck.”

A swift pivot from Sam…he avoided the foot aiming for his middle. The roundhouse catching him to the right of his groin, he could feel his cell phone shatter with the impact to his hip bone. Barely a moment for Sam to be grateful she’d missed his belly, the cracked maniac roared with a fresh burst of adrenaline and fury and came right back at him. 

She was quick, and threw her fist into Sam’s jaw with a brutal undercut…followed by a cruel and sickening punch to his middle that took him to his knees. Another two strikes to his face – cheek and nose both crunching with the blows, the force of it knocking him to his ass – and she had Sam down and bloodied.

Again though, she underestimated him. Grabbing Sam by the hair for another punch – along with a monologue that was nothing but a steady stream of noise in his ears – rather than seizing the moment to tie him up or outright kill him… That, was her third – and to be final – mistake.

Kayla Johnston’s first mistake…had been fucking with Sam Winchester’s family.

Sam Winchester had a history. As it had so often happened, when he’d been the most beaten down, when his enemies had thought they’d bested him… _**That**_ was when Sam found his deepest strength.  
The primal, innate, drive to protect his young – his _family_ – being triggered within – quite literally as it was, his daughter giving a fierce kick to his insides – Sam dug deep. Down to the ferocity of his inner-Alpha and further still. Something lying dormant…   
Unfettered power.   
Lifting his arm up between them and placing his palm on Kayla’s chest, Sam blasted her across the room.

Stunned, shaken, covered in crumbling concrete from the wall she’d practically melded into, and blood streaming from various lacerations as well as her ears, mouth, and nose, Kayla gaped at Sam, wide eyed and gasping for air. “How… You can’t… _**No**_!” she shrieked, futilely struggling to rise. “You don’t get to–“

No matter what he had or hadn’t done – arm still outstretched, Sam clenched his fist – _she_ was the one who ‘didn’t get to’. “No one fucks with my family!” Voice booming through the room, Sam rotated his fist with a sharp wrenching motion… 

Kayla’s neck snapped.

The ugly sound of bones breaking, her body limp against the crumbling wall, Sam knew Kayla was dead. Ignoring the nausea inducing throbbing in his skull, the steady trickle of blood from his nose, and the aching and cramping of his body – not to mention the wet pool beneath his ass – Sam managed to his hands and knees, grabbing the keychain where it had fallen and crawling to his son – Jameson whimpering behind the ball gag, tears streaking his cheeks.  
Gag and cuffs on Jamie unlocked, Sam gingerly took his son’s face between his hands. “Are you hurt?”

Shaking his head no, Jameson simply cried out, lowly and broken, “Daddy.”

“I know, baby, I know. Just hold on, let me get your pawpaw undone, and we’ll get you out of here.”  
Dean was definitely worse for wear. He’d lost weight, looked as equally haggard as Sam from lack of sleep along with the sheer trauma of the entire ordeal. His cuffs hadn’t been padded like Jamie’s, and freed of the ball gag he hissed as Sam unlocked them to reveal the abraded – likely infected – skin beneath. “Sorry, shit. I’m so fucking sor–”

Abruptly yanking Sam in, Dean kissed him. No heat, only frantic and desperate reassurance. Drawing back, in typical “take care of Sammy” big brother mode, Dean started patting Sam down. “Are you okay, Sam?”

“Pretty sure I should be the one asking you that, Dean, but since you’re asking, not particularly, no. My head is pounding, and my water broke blasting that deranged bitch across the room, but as long as you and Jamie are alright, that’s what matters.” Jamie having crawled over to them, Sam drew him in close.

“Wait, Sam, you’re… Shit, Sammy! Takin’ it since no one else has come barreling in here, we’re on our own. Where’s your phone?” 

“Pocket. Busted. Needed charged anyway.”

“Shit, shit, _shit_ ,” Dean hissed. Looking around the room as he rose on shaky legs, Dean’s eyes settled on Kayla. Wordlessly, he hurried over to her body, digging into her jacket pockets. Pulling out a cell phone, he placed a call.

“Listen here, you unhinged barracuda from Hell!” Bobby’s infuriated voice echoed through the room, obviously on speaker.

“Bobby, Bobby! It’s me, Dean. Sam he found us, me and Jamie. We’re…we’re alright.”

“Hell, son, I thought you were her! Been using your phone–“

“I know, but listen. Sammy, he’s in rough shape. And he’s in labor.”

“ _Balls_! Rufus and I ‘r just comin’ up on Red Cloud now, we’ll swing by right quick and grab Emilio.”

“I’ll get Sam upstairs, into our old room. Just…haul ass, Bobby!”

“Call Charlie!” Sam shouted. There for Jameson's birth, Sam thought it was only right she be there for this one.

“Consider it done,” Bobby called back. “You hang on in there, son. We’re on our way.”

Ending the call, Dean rushed back over to Sam and Jamie. Briefly staring at the phone before he shoved it in his pocket, Dean grimaced. “Sadistic bitch tapped into the security cameras, liked to watch you on her laptop over there,” Dean nodded to the desk across the room, “when she made the calls. Liked how it was your ringtone for me going off whenever she called. Got off most on us being right here under your feet.”

Sam refused to think back on those calls. The complete silence, or worse the muffled sounds of his son crying. “She turned off the tracking,” Sam offered. “Charlie located the cell tower it was coming from. Thirty miles, was so damn close, yet not close enough. Still too much ground to cover, though we sure as hell tried. Worked the radius in a grid, driving psychics up and down one street, highway, and back road after another. We broke the warding around the house, all they could pick up was you being taken where we found the Impala. I should’ve… Why I didn’t think to do the same with the bunker… Dammit! When we realized it was someone we knew, we searched the place top to bottom, but still, the idea whoever was possibly holding you hhh _here_ – _**FUCK**_!” Sam roared, a contraction interrupting his anguished frustration.

“Swear jar, Daddy,” Jamie muttered quietly, still keeping himself tucked in against Sam’s side – the thumb he’d finally stopped sucking over a year ago back in his mouth.

“Yeah, buddy, I think everything that’s happened, and Daddy working on you finally meeting your baby sister, we’re gonna put a pause on the swear jar for right now. Just drop a crisp hundred in there when this is all done.”

Looking at Sam’s bump in wonder, Jamie bent his face down close and whispered against it, “It’s safe now, Daddy killed the bad lady, you can come out now.”

Sam swiftly met Dean’s eyes… Yeah, it hit him just as hard too.

Shaking his head as he swiped fiercely at his eyes, Dean squatted down in front of Sam, kissing the top of Jamie’s head, and placing a hand over the swell of Sam’s belly. “Alright, time to get my boys, and my baby girl – ready to make her entrance – upstairs.”


	5. Epilogue

[ ](http://imgbox.com/jDFG3ipc)

_**Epilogue  
~  
NOW** _

[ ](http://imgbox.com/iF3Al5FE)

It took some doing, but Dean managed to get Sam upstairs, only having to stop once for another contraction – Jamie mimicking along with them as Dean helped Sam breathe through it. They’d kept one of their old rooms – two back then, simply to allow one another their own space, more often than not sleeping together in one room or the other – for occasional use, Dean’s since he’d done more to personalize it.   
Once inside, Dean quickly sat Jamie in a chair in the corner of the room and covered him with a blanket. Their son was simply going to have to experience the miracle of his baby sister coming into the world, ‘cause like hell if they were letting him out of their sight. Taking a look at the wound under his chin, it was little more than a nick, blood already crusting over – still it made his own blood boil. Nodding, he kissed Jamie’s forehead and patted his leg.  
Jamie singing softly to himself around his thumb, Dean turned his focus to his brother. He gently stripped Sam down, mindful of the injuries from the pummeling he’d just taken, too aware of how thin and worn down his beautiful boy had become. What she’d done to both of his boys, Dean wanted to go down and resurrect that twisted cunt…just so he could kill her again.

“Dean,” Sam’s voice was soft, his hand cupping the side of Dean’s neck, “don’t.”

Shaking his head, Dean eased Sam into his old bathrobe. “No, I know. You took care of it. _Knew_ you would. Just… _How_ , Sammy?” he didn’t need to explain the question.

Letting Dean help him onto the bed, Sam leaned back against a pile of pillows and then shrugged. “I don’t know, Dean. I didn’t think I could still… But there I was, figured it was over, you know? That I’d failed all three of you. And Kayla was going on and on, nothing but noise whatever she was saying, and I could see Jameson crying, and you struggling, and then…she kicked. Our daughter. Pretty sure she bruised my kidney, but it just triggered…” Sam simply shrugged again.

Nodding, Dean bent over and kissed Sam’s forehead. Followed it up with a tender press to his lips. Drawing back, he looked at his brother and smiled. “Think you can use that mojo for baby girl here? Skip the whole labor deal and just shoot her out? I’ll catch her?”

Sam stared gaping at Dean, horrified. His expression conveying perfectly, “ _Of all the insufferable… You’re an idiot, Dean, and I don’t know why I love you but dammit I do._ ” without a single word. Before he did have a chance to speak, both he and Dean turned at the sound of a throat clearing across the room. Bobby stood ginning in the doorway.

“I’ll say it for ya, son: your brother’s an idjit.”

“Grampa!” Jameson cried out, immediately swept up into Bobby’s arms.

A broken, “Jamie,” was all an overwhelmed Bobby could manage, wrapping his arms around his grandson and holding him tight.

Brushing past Bobby and Jamie, Emilio rushed into the room. “There will be **no** deliveries of newborns via launching across the room! Not on my watch!” Standing at the end of the bed, Emilio scanned the room, taking in Sam, Dean, and Jameson in Bobby’s arms. “Have to say it’s damn good to see you and Jamie, Dean,” the man offered. “The shape you all are in, however… Not even sure where to start?”

“Definitely Sammy and our baby girl, Doc. Jamie and I…well. He’ll be okay. More shaken than anything. Took a hit to the nose, but no break. Cut under his chin, think Bobby can manage that well enough. I uh, tried…tried to make it a game, much as I could.” Dean shook his head, as if he could free himself from the memories of what they’d endured.

Emilio nodded. “I’ll take a look at him a little later then.” Catching sight of Dean’s wrists, he cocked an eyebrow. “I’ll be tending to _those_ too…later. Right now,” Emilio directed his attention to Sam, moving to the side of the bed and setting his bag down before taking hold of Sam’s wrist, fingers on the pulse point, “how are _you_ doing, Sam?”

“Really missing the birthing pool right about now.” Sam gritted his teeth, head tilting back as he reached out his free hand for Dean – Dean immediately taking it and letting him squeeze.

“Well, hopefully this will go quick. Second births, and a little early, also last I checked my guess is she’ll be a pound or so lighter than Jameson was. Now, Sam. I know you’ve been worn down recently, understandably so, but it also looks like you took a bit of damage, presumably getting your family back. But my big concern here is, was there any type of trauma to your abdomen?”

Sam nodded.

“ _What_?!” Dean suddenly felt sick, how the _hell_ had he missed that? Oh yeah, he was definitely bringing the bitch back and killing her again. Make sure Crowley was there to greet her when she got where she was going. Which, come to think of it… Dean was willing to bet _Uncle Crowley_ already had her on her own special rack. It was a darkly twisted cold comfort and satisfaction Dean wouldn’t apologize for.

“She got one solid hit with her fist, but I felt the baby kick a minute or two after, and moving around here and there since. Though, I guess not so much, if at all, since we got upstairs.”

Emilio patted Sam’s hand, then reached into his bag for his stethoscope. “That probably just means she’s heading for the exit. I do need to take a listen though, then I’ll do an exam, see how things are progressing.”

Holding Sam’s hand, they both watched as Emilio moved the stethoscope around Sam’s belly, the man’s poker face making Dean uneasy – Sam too if the tightening grip was anything to go by.

Hurrying over to the sink to scrub his hands, Emilio returned to the bed and arranged himself with one knee on the mattress. “Time to get personal, Sam. Need for you to open your robe and spread your legs for me.” Sam doing so, Emilio nodded. “That’s good. Deep breath in…and out.”

A moment later, Sam grimaced, obviously trying not to squirm against the discomfort.

Dean’s ass clenched in sympathy. “Hang in there, Sammy.”

Sam simply sucked his lips in between his teeth, bit down and nodded.

“Okay, Sam. You are fully dilated. This little lady wants to come out, and she wants to do it now.” Leaning in closer to them, Emilio spoke quietly, “I don’t want either of you to panic, but I do need to let you know there’s more blood than I would like to see. Now, just in case things should get tricky, I’m wondering if maybe it might be best for someone to take Jameson out of the room? What with everything he’s been through?”

_Don’t panic_ , was he fucking kidding them? Still, Dean took Sam’s cue and nodded in agreement. Looking over to their son, he was surprised to find Charlie and Missouri had quietly slipped into the room at some point, both of the women standing next to Bobby, who was still holding Jamie.

Missouri catching Dean’s eyes, she stepped over to the bed. “I can take him if you boys would like. Know your closest folks are all gathered in the kitchen, we can get him cleaned up a little, see if the boy wants a snack. You _know_ I won’t let him out of my sight.”

Dean turned to Sam, then back to Missouri. “Thanks, ‘souri.”

“Of course, Dean. And, Sam?” Missouri looked to him with a smile. “You’re going to be just fine, sugar, and so is your little girl. Spitfire that one. Wasn’t sure until just now, but got the shine on her, something bright.”

Sam opening his mouth to respond, he let out scream instead – the sound seeming to kick everything into action.

“Come on now, Jamie,” Missouri called out, hustling across the room and holding her hand out to the boy Bobby had put down in front of him.

“It’s okay, Jamie,” Dean assured, “go with your Auntie ‘souri. She’ll bring you back just as soon as your sister gets here, promise.”

Missouri leading Jameson from the room, Charlie stood there looking helpless until Emilio suddenly called out for her.

“Charlie! Run to the infirmary. Sterilized towels and blankets, jugs of distilled water. Go! Hurry!”

Charlie was already out of the room.

“Bobby, need you to get the equipment out of my bag and put it on the desk. Know you can figure out what’s what well enough, just hand me what I need when I ask for it.”

“On it, Doc.”

“Uh, guys,” Sam’s shaky voice caught everyone’s attention, “I kinda need to push here.”

“Alright then folks, it’s show time, this little lady ready to make her debut. Now, Sam,” Emilio moved to the head of the bed, “I’m sure the last thing you feel like doing right now is moving–”

“Actually, um, I really _do_. Just…”

“You’re exhausted and beat to hell, both ridiculous understatements I’m sure. Glad to know your body’s still giving you cues regardless. Dean and I will help, nice and easy. On your knees like you were with Jameson would be good.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of what I was thinking. Maybe facing the headboard, so I can grip onto it?”

Emilio looking at him pointedly, Dean shrugged. “Just tell me what to do, Doc.”

Taking his guidance, Dean helped Emilio carefully get Sam repositioned, and just in time… 

Kneeling at the head of the bed with his legs spread wide, fingers white-knuckled around the headboard, Sam cried out, “Gotta _puuushhh_!” 

As if on cue, Charlie skidded back into the room.

“Charlie! Perfect timing! Put one of those sterile blankets on the bed between Sam’s legs,” Emilio instructed, once again swiftly scrubbing up.

“Um…” Hurrying over to the bed, Charlie looked at Sam – entirely bared and prone – and promptly shoved a blanket at Dean. “Here, what Doc said.”

Dean couldn’t help but snort, watching Charlie turn and scurry back across the room as he placed the blanket down. He kissed Sam’s shoulder. “How you holding up, Sammy?”

“Hurts. Really fucking hurts, Dean.”

“Imagine it does, sweetheart.”

“Don’t ‘ _sweetheart_ ’ me, Dean. We’re not doing this again.”

“I know.”

“I mean it this time!”

Standing at the ready, Bobby snorted, obviously smothering a laugh.

“I hear ya, Sammy. And that’s fine. Love ya more than I ever thought possible for goin’ through it just the once, let alone twice.”

“Fuck you, Dean!”

“Not to interrupt this beautiful moment,” Emilio interjected, chuckling, “but shall we, gentlemen?” With that he climbed onto the bed and took his spot behind Sam.

For the next fifteen minutes, Sam labored. Dean beside him, holding his hand, offering words of encouragement, and wiping him down with the steady rotation of cold washcloths Charlie kept bringing over.

Emilio cursed under his breath. “Okay, Sam, gonna need you to stop pushing.”

“ _ **What**_?! I… No-no-no, I gotta…”

“I know, Sam, but the cord’s around her neck. You _**can’t**_ push.”

Dean grabbed Sam’s face, forced his brother to look him straight in the eyes. “You? Can fucking do _**anything**_! You get me?”

Searching Dean’s eyes, and finding what he needed, Sam nodded fervently…and squeezed the hell out of Dean’s hand.

A tense minute passed. Another. Emilio clearly focused, hands working _inside_ of Sam’s body, he hissed a broken off curse before finally yelling, “Push, Sam! **Now**! Give it all you’ve got!”

As Sam roared and bore down, Dean looked below his spread and bloody thighs, unable to quite make out what he saw.

“Dean? _**Dean**_!? Is she alright?!”

“I… I’m not…” Dean gripped Sam’s hand tight. Watching Emilio untangle what Dean was realizing looked like the placenta Sam had passed a little while after Jameson had been born, it struck him like a fist what the unmoving, bluish-gray tinted form he was seeing was. “No,” Dean breathed, heart shattering.

“Bobby, suction!”

Bobby swiftly handed Emilio the little blue aspirator.

“Oh God! **Nooo**! _Please_!” Sam cried.

“Easy now,” Emilio spoke gently, taking a towel Charlie had rushed to offer before he even asked and giving the newborn a good rub, “just give her a minute.”

All of them waiting with bated breath for their daughter to take her first… A shrill cry rang out in the room.

“There she is!” Emilio cheered. “That’a girl, little one, you make all the ruckus you want, you earned it.”

“She’s okay? She’s alright?” Sam demanded.

“A little early, and a rough ride into this crazy world, but your daughter is doing fine! One helluva set of lungs on her too!” Emilio laughed as a collective sigh was released from the rest of them.

_**~ ~ ~** _

Emilio giving their daughter another once over and the all clear, and Jameson, Bobby, Charlie, and Missouri all taking their turns to fawn over the newborn, everyone began filing out to give Sam and Dean time alone with their new little one – Charlie snapping one more picture before she followed suit and left them be. Sam knew it would be a near match to the one she’d taken of him and Dean and Jameson from the night he was born – the framed photo hanging with so many other precious and cherished memories, trailing up the staircase wall in their home. Jamie sacked out in the chair, Dean lay by Sam’s side, their newborn daughter skin-to-skin on Sam’s chest, nursing. Tiny and perfect and a shock of strawberry-blonde hair – a nod to the “ginger” in Dean’s beard when he let it grow out – and already out to prove she was a force to be reckoned with.

Finger gently tracing the fine curve of her brow, Dean kissed Sam’s temple. “You settled on a name for her yet?” 

Dean was of the opinion that if Sam was the one that had to carry them, and push them out, “ ‘cause _damn_ that’s gotta hurt, Sammy.” then Sam was the one who got to name them. Sam thought it was ridiculous…and sweet, and totally didn’t argue. Watching their daughter yawn wide around his nipple before unerringly latching on again, Sam smiled. “Josephine. Josephine Rosellyn Winchester.”

Dean stared at his brother and sighed. “You’re really set on making sure our kids get teased for having old people names, aren’t you?”

Sam gave Dean his best thousand-watt bitchface. Rolling his eyes, he could feel them misting over as he offered his brother the bittersweet reason behind the name, “It’s for Jo, and Ellen. Smart, strong, kind…courageous. Kind of women I’d be proud for our daughter to grow up to be.” Watching Dean’s expression somber, Sam took his hand, squeezed it. “We’ll call her Josie.”

Eyes glistening, Dean swallowed hard and nodded, squeezed Sam’s hand back. “Yeah, Sammy, yeah. I like it. Josie Rosie.” Smiling, Dean suddenly chuckled, added with a snort, “JoRo.”

“Dean, you call our daughter that, and she will be the last.”

Dean waggled his eyebrows, grinned. “You gonna give me more kids, Sammy? Let me keep knockin’ you up? Keep you all barefoot and pregnant?”

Sam looked Dean straight in the eyes. “No foreplay in front of the kids.” He gave his brother a quick dimpled grin before letting it slip away. “In all seriousness though, Dean, with what we just went through? Forget our _own_ lives, we almost lost our _kids_. _Both_ of them. And I wouldn’t take back having them for the world, but if we can’t keep them safe…” Sam simply gazed down at their daughter.

“I get it, Sam, I really do. You’ve absolutely got a point.” Tucking Sam’s head against his shoulder, Dean took a few moments, considering, before he went on, “That’s the world, Sammy. If it’s not monsters, it’s fucking nutjob humans. And if it’s not either of those, it’s nature, ‘acts of God’. No one on this earth is ever promised they’ll be able to keep their kids safe. Plenty of folks can’t, sad fact of it. And I can’t tell you why that is, anymore than I can explain why us humans keep having ‘em anyway, except maybe… Maybe it’s ‘cause, least for some of us who want to try making the world a better place, it’s our way to keep doin’ it even after we’re gone. Create the next generation who might do it better, finally get it right. Just like you and me, saving people. Not that I want our kids to grow up to be Hunters – over my dead body in fact – but figure if we keep having ‘em, raise them right, maybe they’ll grow up to save people in other ways. Be a beacon and justice in this world.”

“Shit, Dean. You… Wow.” No one ever gave his brother enough credit, even Sam. So easy to not realize, or even forget, that behind Dean’s macho bravado and snark, he was whip-smart. Deep…when he wanted to be. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

“I’m with you, Dean, everything you said, yeah. But…”

“You still need time.” Dean pressed a kiss to the top of Sam’s head. “You take all of it you need, Sammy, even if it’s forever.”

Sam turned his head, placed his lips against the warm, if slightly pungent, skin on Dean’s neck. “Thank you.”

“For what? Givin’ you time? Even without the nightmare we’ve all just lived through, be an asshole if I didn’t.”

“That, but no, just…everything. Thank you.”

“Right back at’cha, Sammy.”

[ ](http://imgbox.com/IDEEsemg)

_**> >> One Week Later <<<** _

The evening Josie had been born, Sam knew Dean had slipped away to the kitchen while he’d slept – Jameson curled up against his side – to show off their new daughter. Inner circle all gathered, he’d filled them in on everything that had gone down…and why.   
From there, Bobby had given the rest of their people a run down of the basics. Seemed no one outside their circle was aware of Sam’s stint with soullessness, the agreement being there wasn’t a good reason for that to change.

Kayla’s body had been taken to a Hunter friendly mortuary, her body salted before being cremated. They didn’t need her vengeful spirit making an appearance, she’d done enough damage while alive.   
The room Dean and Jameson had been held in, it’d been thoroughly cleaned – as well as cleansed – before being sealed off by welding the secret metal door closed, the mechanism of the hidden panel then disabled.

[ ](http://imgbox.com/jeW40s3A)

_**> >> ~ S&D ~ <<<** _

Kissing his daughter on top of her soft little head, Sam inhaled the sweet baby smell before gently placing Josie inside of her crib. She’d likely sleep a few hours before demanding to be fed again – their girl was a voracious eater and, like her daddy _and_ papa, was steadily putting on weight. Making sure the monitor was on, Sam made his way downstairs.   
Jamie outside with Garth building a fort, Sam found Dean in the family room watching TV.

“She down?” Dean asked, eyes still on whatever action movie was playing.

“Yeah. Nearly drained me dry first.” There was no more putting this off. “Uh…Dean?”

“Mmhmm?”

“It’s time.”

Dean grabbed the remote and turned off the TV, took his legs down off the ottoman and set his feet on the floor. “You sure, Sammy? Mean, know eventually… Doesn’t gotta be now.”

“Yeah, I know, but I’m sure.” Sam walked across the room, undecided if he wanted to stand or sit, he eventually dropped down in the rocker catty-corner from where Dean was sitting in his favorite chair.

Taking a minute, Dean drawing his hand down over his mouth and chin, he sighed. Then, he began… From the moment he’d left the house that day to run errands with Jamie, to the second Sam had entered the hidden room, he told Sam everything. “Wasn’t your fault, Sam. Know you’re thinkin’ it. Don’t.”

“But it was, Dean. Doesn’t matter–”

“The hell it doesn’t!” Dean roared, rising to his feet, remote flung across the room. “Dammit, Sam, we are _**not**_ doing this! _**You**_ are not doing this! The shit we all just went through was bad enough…and _**all of it**_ on that sadistic psychopath! Yeah it’s horrible what happened to her, to her family. Fuckin’ sucks how Cas’s sorry ass pulled you out of the cage without your soul too! But unless you asked him to leave it behind, put you topside without a moral compass, then _none of it_ is on you.”

Watching his brother explode, Sam hearing his words, the conviction behind them, he allowed it to sink in. Then thinking on what Kayla had done…deliberately. Screwed in the head, for sure, but still a conscious decision… “Dean–”

“No, Sam. Just no. Been trying to get this through that thick, stubborn head of yours for how long now? And I’m just…”

“You’re right.”

“I mean it, Sam, enough is– Wait. _What_?”

“I said you’re right. I know what I started to say, and up until a minute ago I would’ve gone on and placated you. Let it drop while I continued believing it was my fault, but… You’re right. Bobby’s right. And all the shit I’ve done that _was_ my fault, my conscious decisions and actions behind it, my conscience intact… _This_ I can’t keep carrying.”

“What changed?” Dean asked, suspicious.

“Honestly?” Sam shrugged. “Maybe thinking about everything Kayla did to you and Jamie. How she didn’t just go after me alone. Was willing to hurt – kill – two innocent kids, you, to get to me. And sure, she’d obviously snapped, but she still had–”

“Her soul.”

“Yeah. She made her choices with her conscience in place, something I didn’t have the luxury of doing during that year without my soul. I guess…” Sam lifted his hands, then let them fall back to his lap.   
While his brother let out a long exhale and dropped back down in his chair, hands running through his hair, Sam slowly stood and walked over to the window that looked out over the back yard. He watched Jamie playing – his son still shaken, woke up screaming more nights than not, and would shut down near catatonic if anyone forgot and called him Teddy. Outside, clearly pointing out to Garth what the man should do next – giggling loudly when Garth intentionally screwed it up – Sam could also see how resilient Jameson was. So much promise there, in his son, his daughter as well.

Dean coming up behind him, arms wrapping around his once again trim waist, Sam slouched just that inch or so for Dean’s chin to rest on his shoulder. “What’cha thinkin’, Sammy?”

“Wondering if we can put a supernatural low-jack on our kids? You too for that matter.” As it was, they’d already upped their warding game. It was tricky, and limited, but Bobby, Rufus, and Missouri had done their best to implement new sigils and spellwork – at both the farm and bunker – to protect them from those who would do them harm…monsters and humans alike.

Dean snorted, puff of breath warm against Sam’s neck. “Bobby’s already looking into it.”

Sam laughed. “Jamie and Josie, the world’s going to be a better place for having them in it.”

“Yuuu _p_. Got that right, Sammy.”

“Dean, I think I wa–” At the same time Sam had begun to speak, Dean had held his fist out in front of him, opening it to reveal the two identical black bands that rendered him speechless.

“Figured it was about well past time. Let things settle down a bit, you get all healed up, we can gather our nearest and dearest here at the farm for a binding ceremony. Know we’re already bound in every way that really matters, but…whatever. Make an honest woman outta ya and all that.”

Staring at the rings – titanium, most likely, protection symbols and binding runes engraved all around, both the same width – Sam couldn’t even give Dean a proper bitchy comeback to his teasing, too busy letting what he was seeing sink in. “Dean… These are both Alpha rings.”

“Can’t get anything by you, Sam.”

While Alpha and Omega rings typically matched in design, traditional Omega bands were thinner than their Alpha’s, the color either a gold or rose tone – silver, copper or black reserved for Alphas.

“What can I say,” Dean went on when Sam didn’t, “times they are a changin’. These last ten years or so, Alpha-on-Alpha pairings, like Cesar and Jesse, becoming more accepted. Been hearing more and more about Trans-Status, and sure maybe your situation is different, but same principle I think: your body says one thing, while your head and heart say another. ‘sides, even if it wasn’t for all that, far as I’m concerned your body may function like an Omega now, but you are still my little bitch of an Alpha brother, Sammy. Ain’t nothing going to ever change that.”

Sam turned in Dean’s arms, staring into his brother’s eyes. “Jerk.”

Dean tossed his head back and laughed, really laughed. It was a good sound.

He was right though, again, Sam thought. The stringent parameters on Status roles they’d face when they were younger didn’t exist anymore. Sure there were diehard traditionalist, people determined to stick to their beliefs, and force them on others, no matter how antiquated or harmful. There always would be. But for the most part, the stigma was a fading thing. Acceptance of Trans-Status still had a ways to go, but it seemed clear it would get there as well.

“You know, Sammy, I’m still kinda standing here holding these rings.” Dean raised his hand between them, opened his palm to again reveal the matching bands.

Sam began to nod his head. “Yes, Dean. Yes to everything! Yes to the rings. Yes to the binding ceremony. And, if we can, yes to more kids.”

“Whoa! Wait, more kids too? Seriously, Sam? You’re sure?”

Sam just kept nodding. They both knew what Emilio had said. With the complications, he just couldn’t say if Sam would be able to get pregnant again. Still, yeah, he was willing to try. “Yes seriously, and yes I’m sure.”

Dean whooped. Took Sam into his arms and lifted him up off the ground, the both of them laughing.

Sam’s feet back on the floor, he kissed Dean. Let it turn from affirmation and promise to something sweeter, and on to heated even though there wasn’t too much it could lead to for another couple of weeks. Which was okay by both of them, they could lose themselves for hours just kissing.  
He laughed as Dean took his left hand, showing Sam the inner-inscription, _Bitch_ , before slipping it on his finger – Sam in turn doing the same for his brother with the ring inscribed, _Jerk_.

“Kinda figured you might like me enough to marry me, but giving me more kids… I just wasn't’ sure.”

“Dean–” Sam began to caution, though he was immediately cut off.

“I know. I know, Sam. But figure it this way…” Dean waggled his eyebrows ridiculously. “Think of all the fun we get to have trying. And if it doesn’t pan out, and we still want more, well then being a legit married couple and all we shouldn’t have much trouble adopting.”

“Really, Dean? You’d be okay with adoption?” Sam wasn’t sure exactly why he was surprised, especially knowing how his brother felt about Bobby, and Charlie too.

Dean shrugged. “Like Bobby says, family don’t end with blood. Figure we love ‘em, and we’re the ones who raise ‘em, they’d still be ours.”

Caught up in Dean’s excitement, a rush of love for his brother/mate/best friend/partner/Alpha/soon-to-be-husband/his _everything_ coursing though him, and Sam felt practically giddy.  
Watching Dean take out his cell phone, Sam reached to stop him. “No, Dean, not yet. I want to wait–”

“Trust me, Sammy.” Obviously finishing up and sending off a quick text, Dean took Sam’s hand and started pulling him towards the upstairs.

“Dean! You do realize we can’t start trying right _now_?”

“Hah! Not that it wouldn’t be awesome, but no, wasn’t quite what I had in mind. Does involve you, me, and our bed, though, maybe a lazy make-out session to get us there.”

What the hell his brother could even be thinking… Oh! Sam was starting to catch-up. Josie still asleep for likely another hour or two, and Garth always content to keep Jamie entertained for hours… “You already texted Garth, didn’t you?”

“Yuuu _p_.” A quick peek into the nursery, and Dean continued to lead Sam right into their bedroom across the hall. Dropping down onto the bed, he tugged Sam along with him. 

Sam laughing, lying on top of his equally laughing brother, he gave Dean a wet and _smacking_ kiss full on the lips. “Best. Idea. Ever!” 

“I know, I’m awesome.” Grabbing hold of Sam, Dean rolled them onto their sides, lying face-to-face. Brushing the hair back from Sam’s face, he leaned in and kissed him, soft and lazy. “Love you, Sammy.”

“Love you too, Dean.” Sam opened to his brother, let him in, where he belonged.

They kept it languid and sweet, Dean drifting off first with his thumb still stroking over Sam’s hip even after he’d begun to lightly snore.  
As they’d learned with Jamie, naps with a newborn in the house were essential – naps _together,_ a luxury, usually afforded to them by family or close friends stopping by.  
Wrapped up in his brother’s arms, and sleep right there at the edges of his mind, ready to whisk him under, Sam drowsily contemplated the surreal of his and Dean’s lives.  
To think how they’d started out two Alpha brothers raised as nomads and trained as Hunters, all but forced to hide what was really between them. To have continued on living that way for so much of their lives, believing there was no other way – Hunt things, save people, only to die bloody for it, times over apparently while waiting for it to eventually stick. After all of that, for it to take a “gift” from a witch for him and Dean to not only end up properly mated, but to be raising a family together. For them to have a wonderful home, and be surrounded by friends – some who’d become family – who helped give them the roots, support, stability, connections to others they’d never had. And with the training facility they’d created a legacy to leave to future Hunters – with their children they’d created a legacy to leave to the world. Looking back on it all, yeah, “surreal” was a good word for their lives. So was “miracle”. Even, maybe…”blessed”.  
If Sam could change having been brought up in the Hunting life… He couldn’t. And yet, they’d still somehow managed to carve out a life for themselves aside from it all the same. The bad, it would keep coming. And he and his brother, they’d rise up to stand against it, just as they always did. And when the good came, they’d take it and cherish the hell out of it, protect it fiercely.

Sam and Dean, they’d keep carrying on.

[ ](http://imgbox.com/IDEEsemg)

_**> >> ~ Titanium ~ <<<   
(With You on the Edge of Every Tomorrow)** _

**Author's Note:**

> Title actually **NOT** inspired by the song. Originally it was simply (heh!) “With You On the Edge of Every Tomorrow”. From the ether, Muse, SamNDean??? :::shrugs::: But then I wrote the epilogue. Searched black wedding bands, and saw the sea of stark and beguiling titanium. Oh yeah. Set to writing that scene, and gears began to _whir_ at that point, and I thought maybe… I like the word, I like what it represents, and how wasn’t that just fitting for the story? And then, still writing, thinking…I started humming. Took me a bit to even realize I was, then a bit longer to figure out what the fuck I was humming. LOL It was from the “shower scene” in _Pitch Perfect_ (not _even_ gonna apologize, stinkin’ love this movie!!!). It was _Titanium_. So I went to YouTube to listen to the original. No, oddly enough, I’d never (that I’m aware of) heard it, nor seen the video. Let me tell y’all… I LOST it! Seeing the kid with his powers, and really listening to the lyrics. I mean…come onnnnn!!! And thus, that’s how I ended up with the title I did. And it’s artist approved!  
> 
> 
> _  
> **Kudos, and Comments, and Con-Crit, Oh My!!!  
>  All are very appreciated and highly adored!!! Yes, even respectful Con-Crit! (feel free to leave it anon)  
> This is really the only payment I get, beyond the pleasure of writing being its own reward, and even if I don’t respond (:::hangs head in shame for this dreadful character flaw:::) believe me, it will quite possibly be the only thing to brighten my day. Just… It means a lot.  
> ♥ ♥ ♥ **  
> _


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